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White Sulphur Springs. 

^A Play, in Five Acts. 



THE LIBRARY Of 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

MAY. 14 1901 

COPVfilGMT ENTRY 

CLASS^ XXc. No. 
COPV S. 






PERSONS repres:ented. 

Charles Stanhope, a Planter. 

Dr. Theophilus Paddleford, also a Planter. 

Harry Paddleford, son to Doctor. 

Cabot Bradford, a retired Lawyer. 

Major Frank Harding, friend to Harry. 

Julius Merivale Lefroy, beau of Grace and Bertha. 

Armistead Minot, cousin to Major. 

Paul Thornton, a Greenbrier Farmer. 

Tom Yeates, a Greenbrier Mechanic. 

Jim, a Servant at Broadway. 

Mrs. Lyttleton Stockton. 

Grace, daughter to Mrs. Stockton. 

Bertha Joinville, friend to Grace. 

Mother Craddock, housekeeper to Paul Thornton. 

Maggie, daughter to Tom Yeates. 

Hygeia. 

Guests, Watch, Clerk, Villagers, Waiters, etc. 



Scene — Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs, except once, when at 
Lewisburg, Greenbrier County, West Virginia. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. Lawn opposite Tansus Row. 

Mrs. Stockton and Stanhope, conversing. 

Mrs. S. My cotton claim first brought me here. For tranquil 
labor and for altered air, hither arrived that wise Commissioner, 
who, in prime instance, was to judge my cause. And I did early 
follow. The claim, of course, we mentioned not. ■ Ah ! well ! it was 
unnecessary. He soon became as much mine as the claim. Yet 
shed some pity on me. My dear Commissioner, my heart of hearts, 
has, two weeks, westward fled. 

Stanhope. I hope the proofs, upon such weighty business, stand 
full clear. 

Mrs. S. And are proofs requisite ? Nothing of these I know. 
One-quarter of my right is pledged, contingently, as fee to my at- 
torneys. Think you, such interest of their own they have neglected? 
No, my good Sir. Sooner might landlord overlook his rent, sheriff 
your tax, or hangman his reward. Congratulate me ! (^Exit.) 

Stanhope. The fabled tree that from the staff of Ramah's coun- 
sellor sprung, did only, it is said, in blossom burst, on Christmas 
day. And Aaron's rod did bloom but once The lawyer's reed, 
coursing with sap perennial, both fruit and flower of discord bears 
together. Pray Heaven her cause be just. And, from no conscious 

act of hers, can it be otherwise. Yet that Commissioner 'Twas 

all in this Sulphur Water ! All in the Water ! {Ejcit.) 

Enter Major Harding, just arrived, and Dr. Paddleford, meeting. 

Major. Why, Dr. Paddleford ! How glad to meet you! " The 
White'' is still itself 

Dr. P, Welcome, thrice welcome, to this fount of health, of 
beauty and of joy ! 



6 WHITE St'LPHUR SPRINGS. 

Major. Lively, Doctor ? Eh ? 

Dr. P. Beyond compare, Sir ! Happiness fills the valley. The 
breeze sings madrigals. The mountains skip like lambs. 

Major. 'Tis better then for me. A week, else, were brief to 
plant and ripen tenderness. 

Dr. P. An instant's here enough. My charming friend. Miss 
Grace, will teach you all. And shall ! 

Major. Dear, gracious Grace, I sigh thy lessons, such sweet 
training crave. 

Dr. P. And well you may. Ah ! then her mother ! Snatched 
from the skies ! But, bustle, boy ! we waste the golden sands. To 
quarters, now, and then prepare for love. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Lefroy,just arrived, and Bertha, meeting. 

Bertha, {Recognizing. ) Mr. Lefroy ! 

Lefroy. Miss Joinville ! {Shaking hands^ Let me hope your 
uncle is not less rosy than his niece. 

Bertha. Thanks ! he is well ; but, grief to tell, he left us for New 
York, an hour ago. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Very considerate !— Miss Joinville, this is, in- 
deed, a happiness ! Not one for which I failed to hope while yet I 
might be here, yet such as scarce I trusted to bless the moment of 
my coming. 

Bertha. Ever equipped with handsome phrase ! To such soft 
flatteries willing maids here list. {Going.') 

Lefroy. Not yet, I beg If this traveler's garb do not offend the 
scene, let me, at least, prove convoy to your cottage. 

Bertha. It is but here in Tansus, which even now I am about to 
enter. 

Lefroy. May not these rustic seats claim two brief minutes of 
the wealth of time ? 

Bertha. Perhaps, they should not, but — they may — for you. 
( They sit.) 

Lefroy. Miss Joinville, 'tis you alone who bring me here Each 
moment of my journey chased your smiles. May I not hope to 
earn their dimpled blessing, now ? 

Bertha. I trust we shall continue friends. And leisure is abun- 
dant. But you have yet to learn what fair attractions here enslave 
your sex. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 7 

Lefroy, i^Rising, bows.) The equals of Miss Joinville were attrac- 
tive, indeed. 'Tis little that I fear 

Bertha. (.Quickly.) There is Miss Mouton, Miss Ridgely, Miss 
Roquemore ; but, for a peerless nymph, commend me to Miss Stock- 
ton, Miss Grace Stockton, the pride of Mississippi. — Have you met 
her, Mr. Lefroy ? 

Lefroy. {Aside.) I like not this! Met her? — Miss Stockton — 
Stockton ? Her portrait, pray ! 

Bertha Superb as Juno. A blonde upon whose alabaster nature 
paints and recalls the rose each moment. Sure, you have some- 
where seen her. 

Lefroy, {.Confused.) I — I — Yes, I think I do know a Miss Stockton, 
of Natchez, or some landing on the River. Yet not, it seems, the 
picture that you draw. 

Bertha. You are incorrigible. Come ! Your two minutes are 
long o'erpast. So, till the bye-and-bye ! {Exit.) 

Lefroy. Here are hard lines. Two years have I made love to 
both these girls. And now they are together. As intimate, no 
doubt, as Helena and Hermia ! I ought not to have come, and I'm 
inclined to leave, at once. Now, I'm not in love with either of 
thetn ; certainly, not in a business nor connubial sense. Miss Join- 
ville, I think, would have me, if I asked her. So, of course, I can't. 
Miss Stockton will continue to refuse me, if I persist. So I safely 
may But the difference lies here. If I renounce Miss Joinville and 
devote myself to Miss Stockton, there's a declaration of war ; 
whereas, if I restrain my attentions to Miss Stockton, and confine 
them to Miss Joinville, the olive branch may be preserved. I'll try 
the latter. If the effort prove too oppressive, I'm off to Nahant. 
{Exit. ) 

Scene II. Broadway Building. 

Enter Major, with fim, bearing hand trunk. 

fitn, {Depositing hand-trunk.) Here y'is, boss. Number Thee 
Hunded en Ten, on de Broadway — ^Jim White de flo'-manager ! 

Major. Well, Jim, I'm not overpartial to Broadway, but I rather 
approve this particular apartment. ( Walks round.) Airy, snug, two 
beds — Here! ( Giving money ^ ) 



8 WHITE SULPHUR SPRHSTGS. 

Jim. Thanky, boss, thanky, Sir ! I know'd who you was, no 
quicker'n I let off de omlibus ! 

Major. {Observing trunk.) A trunk? Somebody else in this 
room ? What does this mean ? 

Jim. Dat trunk done jus' come. Sir. I 'low'd it yourn, boss, 
fer sho ! 

Major. This is outrageous ! {Reading letters on trunk,) J. M. L ! 
—J.M.L! Yes! Just my luck! {To Jim.) You can retire. 

Jim. Mouty sorry, boss ! 'Tain't me, Sir. De Office done done 
it. When yer 'quires anything, boss, jus' tech de passage bell. Sir. 
{Exit.) 

Major. I would that L. J. M. were beyond all voice-sounds. If 
there's anything I demand, at present, it is privacy and seclusion in 
my domestic affairs. Here am I for a week — a week in which to 
play the graceful and the conquering swell, — ravish the glances of 
fair woman and with envy fret the souls of men. The mission in- 
variably attributed to us all. {Opening hand-trunk and extracting 
Jlask.) Well, success to the opening performance ! {Drinks)) I'm 
glad I made a toilet on that Sleeper. I'll but brush up a little, and 
leave before that L. M.J., or /. L. M, or M. J. L.,— {Rapping 
without.) There he is now ! {Replaces Jlask. Rapping renewed.) 
He's in the devil of a hurry ! Now ! Well ! Come in ! 

Enter Harry Paddlejord. 

Harry Howdy, Harding ! 

Major. Bless your heart, Paddleford ! whence did you descend ? 
Thought you that/. M. L 

Harry. Don't know him. From Paris, lately. " The Sweet,'' 
this morning. 

Major. Why, Paddleford ! What breeze might waft you to that 
joyless, grim, sepulchral shore ? 

Harry The sweet I joined. A southern group. Met yester- 
day's yesterday's yesterday. Upon the train. 

Major And you desert them so early ? 

Harry. Yes ! For the sweeter still. 

Major. Well, tighten your rivets ! Make sound your staves ! 
You'll find the Doctor in the lists. 

Harry Father here? Supposed him at Newport. Looks he 
well, Harding? 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 9 

Major. As health's own picture. The person first I met. Gay 
as a grenadier. Happy as the sunbeam. He is even now to pre- 
sent me to Miss Grace — Grace something — between whom and her 
mother his praise halts for preference. 

Harry. {^Reflectively^ Grace — and — her mother. 

Major. Who are they, Paddleford ? 'Tis marvel, if you place 
them not. 

Harry. The Stocktons doubtless. 

Major. And friends of yours ? 

Harry. The mother yes ! 

Major. And she it is, the sweeter even than the sweet that took 
you to " The Sweet;'' 

Harry. The same. 

Major. Why, Paddleford, when did you yield a virgin field to 
kneel a suitor to the cap of widowhood ? 

Harry. Never ! Stockton is alive. 

Major. Come, expand ! These cramped monosyllables that 
women hear as poems, suit not me. Unstock your stock on 
Stockton. 

Harry. Thus, briefly. Stockton is rich. He's pious and domes- 
tic. Most rustic? Yes! Hence, madam plans. Keeps him at 
home- And roams at will. She loves devotion. Herself knows 
none. I love her icicles. 

Major. I do perceive. She is discreet, Accepts all hearts, but 
keeps her own. Your rivals, sure, are legion. Front them, alone. 
Trench not, I pray, on that fair soil where blooms my lovely Grace. 

Harry. Not I Lefroy's before me. Two years, perhaps. 

Major. Lefroy ? And who in dickens is Lefroy 

Harry. Julius — Merivale— Lefroy. That's it ! Julius Merivale, 

Major. Bandit, despoiler, Tarquin to my dream ! 

Harry Gently, Harding Her acquaintance firsts 

Major. Yes ! We are not yet met — I forgot that. Where said 
you that he lived ? 

Harry. Everywhere. Washington, last, I think. 

Major. Paddleford, a moment since, you knew him not. 

Harry. You mistook. We are friends. As the world goes. 

Major. Paddleford, he is myy. M. L. This (indicatittg,) repul- 
sive luggage is his. He has arrived to continue his attentions to 
Miss Grace, by day, and to console me with the honor of his pres- 



10 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

ence, at night. I drew an unfavorable impression from his initials. 
His lull name will ever be odious to my ears 

Harry. No ! You'll get along. But, to my father, 

Major. True ! We'll together. {Exetmt.) 

Enter Lefroy a7id Jitn. 

Lefroy. And so my " coigne of vantage," or disadvantage, is 
here. {Reclining on one bed.) A couch of flmt ! {Trying the 
other.) Why, this, if possible, is worse. 

Jim, One dem beds, boss, 'longs ter de udder gemmum ! 

Lefroy. The other gentleman ! Now, I can't— I really can't 

Jim. Dat's what de fust gemmun 'low'd, boss, when he see dat 
trunk. 

Lefroy. Hark you, Jim. I mean no reflection upon my proposed 
companion, but I must insist 

Jim. He ain't no such high-roller as you is, boss. {Drazving 
hand-trunk from under bed.) An' he ain't got no Sarrytogie like 
yourn. 

Lefroy. Never mind his wardrobe. Rut I never — I won't — 
room with a stranger. You must take my trunk away, 

Jhn. Mas' boss, dishere place so full — Der ain't nowhere on de 
plantation — Whar he gwyne be tuck, boss ? 

Lefroy. Make some other arrangement, and this, Jim, is your 
reward. (^Handing bank bill.) 

Jim,. Thanky, boss, thanky, massa ! I know'd no gemmun wid- 
out close, wan't fittin' fer comp'ny ter er trunk like dis ! It's gin 
de orders, boss, but I gwyne move you, now, ter Thee Hunded en 
Fo', en bring de baggage comin' outen de Hotel, to dishere room 
whar we is. 

Lefroy. Capital ! But I disclaim all responsibility for the ex- 
change, Jim. You understand, Jim ? 

Jim. Cert'n'y, boss! Cert'n'y, Sir. I gwyne. {Taking up 
trunk.) Ugh ! Umph ! She heavy, sho ' {Exeunt?) 

Scene III. Lawn, near Lower Music Stand. 

To Mrs. Stockton, seated, enter Grace- 
Mrs. S. Dear Grace, what conquest has the last hour brought ? 



WHITE SrLPirUR SPRINGS. 11 

Grace. It has brought Lefroy— brought him by. rail. How he 
learned we were here, I cannot tell. Why he should come, he 
knows not, sure, himself. 

Mrs. S. He should perceive, methinks, that,- e'en at home, his 
fondness proves but service,, 

Grace. In separate strands Fate spins our lives. Thus vouch I 
to him, ever And yet he still persists. 

Mrs. S. Here, child, he must be daily in the way of others. How 
thoughtless his intrusion ! No one who is in earnest suits this spot. 
Girls and their mothers are here for enjoyment. Sighs and tears 
are but mal a propos. And yet, one suitor in a thousand can play 
his part without them. 

Grace. O, forsooth. I have found many. Legare and Crownin- 
shield have both addressed me, nicely. And so, last night, did 
Lenox. 

Mrs. S. Grace, you are ever so discreet, so like myself, your 
heart may well be trusted. 'Tis your establishment in life concerns 
me. There's nothing real, z« /yi"^. That, I have tried. You know, 
dear, the result. 

Grace. Establishment in life ! You frighten me, mamma. No ! 
I wish to know but pleasure — lo dwell with you — to be forever 
young — to have my wrinkles and my epitaph graved in the selfsame 
hour. 

Mrs. S. Speak not thus lightly, Grace. Those lines that ill be- 
come the maid, the matron yet may wear. Yet say, how shall we 
sink the moment ? Invent, dear, a tolerable pastime. 

Grace. Come, then, mamma, in some quiet nook we'll rest, till 
flattery make us listeners. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Stanhope. 

Stanhope. Yes, I was quite comfortable. Snugly fixed Little 
conveniences all arranged to my hand Here arrives a party from 
Baltimore. Presto ! my room, my well-appointed chamber, goes 
to one of the ladies, and myself and belongings are transferred, 
without ceremony, to Broadway. Yet let me not rebel. No ! No ! 
I must respect my station and my breeding Place aux dames. 
The change, perhaps, is ordered to my good, — I shall be further 
from that Spring ! Its noxious vapors, baneful mists, ere that they 
reach my new abode, may be at least diluted. I have thus far es- 



12 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

caped Love's malaria. Yet I begin to fear I may have febrile cen- 
tres. 'Tis all in that Sulphur Water ! Yes ! All in the water ! 
{Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. I marvel where Mrs. Stockton can be. High and low 
have I sought her. 'Tis wrong thus to seclude herself! But 'tis 
her modest and retiring nature. And then, no doubt, she wooes 
the memories of her buried love, as I my sainted spouse so oft re- 
call. Ah ! Mrs. Stockton, how much you remind me of her ! How 
little, I fear, I must awaken thoughts of him ! Yet, if a life of ten- 
derness, of meek submission, trustful confidence 

Enter Harry Paddleford . 

Harry. Howdy, father ! ( Mechanically offering left hand.) 
Hearty, still ? 

Dr. P. My own, dear, long-lost boy. {Etnbracinz Harry.) 
Truant, where have you for these two years hid ? And I with but 
one letter to tell me that you lived ! 

Harry. O ! in places. On the Continent, mostly. 

Dr. P. I appealed to your bankers, deluged them with inquiry. 
They knew but of your drafts. 

Harry. Thanks, father ! I had forgot. That thousand pound' ! 
In May. 'Twas timely. But to the present. Whither are you bent? 

Dr P. {Embarrassed.) I was just thinking, Harry, where I 
should turn. In fact, ah ! hem ! though I wished to go somewhere, 
I was not certain, no ! not satisfied, my son, about the precise 
locality. 

Harry. Indeed ! At home or abroad ? 

Dr. P. Why, here. Sir, where we are, For foreign travel, came 
I hence, you think ? Ah ! Harry, were I but your age. The love- 
liest widow ! All lilies and roses. A neck of snow and ruby lips 

Harry. {Aside.) Mrs Stockton a widow! {To Doctor.) And 
children — numerous ? 

Dr. P. No, Harry, only one. A revelation less peerless than 
herself, alone. 

Harry. I'll glance at her. Maybe ! 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 13 

Dr. P. Glance ! Maybe ! You shall in one hour know her. 
Your chill bosom, your indifferent breast, your unsympathetic heart 
shall at least feel the sense of admiration, if not the warmth of ten- 
nerness. Come ! {Exeunt.) 

Enter Bradford and Stanliope, conversing. 

Bradford. Time was, that time seems now remote, when I was 
highland as yourself, and prized no less my tartan and my clan. 

And yet Far on its course the stream may keep the crystal of its 

fountains. But who shall say, Thus will it lucid flow, tomorrow? 

Stanhope. Count it. Sir, no liberty, if I, in secret, have aspired 
to learn your great-grandfather, in your mother's line. 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P, Deep in philosophy ! Pondering abstractions ! Unmind- 
ful of the glorious forms, fresh lit from Heaven, around you. 

Stanhope. I was desiring the name, Sir, of our friend's great- 
grandfather 

Dr. P- Great-grand fiddlesticks ! With x\\e proavi, abavi, alavi, 
or F. F. Vs. uf others, I never interfere. For my own, I wouldn't 
give snap of a finger. Ancestors ! Ancestors, whose dust, less 
honored than the Chinaman's, lies unmarked and forgotten, what 
can they do for me, or I for them ? Who is there to refute the 
calumny they encountered while living, or to expose the falsehood 
uttered in their praise when dead ? Bah! {Going,) 

Bradford. My maternal great-grandfather was McPeleg Paddle- 
ford. 

Dr. P. {Returning,) What's that ? Paddleford ! Did he say 
Paddleford ? 

Stanhope. My suspicion was not unfounded. McPeleg Paddle- 
ford was also my great-grandfather. He fell, as you know, at the 
head of his company, in gaze of Washington, ere the British flag 
was lowered from Fort Necessity. And, kinsman in the third de- 
gree, with pride I claim your hand. {They shake hands, cordially.) 

Dr P. My great-grandfather, in theline maternal, rest his ashes! 
was Preston Poindexter, and of the best the peer And I never 
heard oi a.ny Scotch or Irish Paddlefords ! It is not my wish, gen- 
tlemen, to question your Wallam Olums, or family tallies. But I 



14 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

want no bar sinister in the escutcheon of 7ny Paddlefords, all of 
whom came straight as a corset-lace. And it's not agreeable, to 
have it insinuated, that they were engaged in any canaries, at the 
very period when, as truth of history, they were, doubtless, mowing 
down the French and Indians, with unexampled slaughter, along 
our colonial outposts. 

Stanhopet{To Dr. P.) A moment, with your leave. Sir. {To 
Bradford.) And your maternal great-grandfather? 

Bradford. His name was Endicott Morehead. 

Dr. P. {Starting forward, seizes a hand, now of Bradford, now 
of Stanhope, and cutting a caper between them, chants,) And mine, 
and mine ! {Bowing, now to one, now to the other.) And thine, and 
thine ! of all, of all ! For, in 1810, LaviniaMarmaduke, great-grand- 
daughter of Endicott Morehead, intermarried with Braxton Paddle- 
ford, who became my father. Ancestors ! they are the props of 
society, and, next to religion, the salvation of indivi<luals ! It's all 
tomfoolery and fal-de-rol to dispute it ! {Exit) 

Bradford. I shall early beg your leave, to enter on some details 
of my blood, of which, perhaps, you have not heard. 

Stanhope. Sir, at your service, ever. {Exeunt.) 



Scene IV. Oaks, opposite Paradise Row. 



Mrs. Stockton and Grace, seated. 

Grace. I like not that surah, yet, I must use it, I suppose, 
mamma, before the season's over. — I wonder if those Byrons are 
respectable ? One of them, as I know, has worn the self same gown, 
on two successive evenings. 

Mrs. S. I think they scarce can be. They have, as they confess, 
been never once abroad. And then the chaperonage they receive 
from their mother ! She will not suffer them, my dear, to drive with 
foreigners, in buggies, or dance the innocent raquet, with partners 
from her own platonic clime. 

Grace. Such governance, methinks, implies most grave de- 
faults. — How awful they must be ! But look ! I pray ! 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 15 

Enter Dr. Paddle ford and Harry Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Ah ! Mrs. Stockton ! And Miss Grace ! A long pur- 
suit, but now requited ever ! Here am I to offer at the shrine of 
your acquaintance, a loving and an only son Admit him to your 
favor. 

Mrs S and Grace Why !- Mr.- Paddleford ! 

Harry. Howdy ! Howdv both ! Well ? 

Dr. P. {Amazed) You each already know him, yet never told 
me about it ! He enjoys your acquaintance, but never mentioned 
the subject ! This mystery unravel ! The secret break ! Unlock 
concealment ! Speak ! I am bound to know. 

Harry. The ladies first ! 

Mrs. S. Myself and daughter. Doctor, with pleasure oft have 
met your son abroad, where, till this moment, we had supposed he 
lingered Nor had we dreamed, but noW, {bowing,) the stately stem 
from which he flourished.. The fault is ours, {Glancing from father 
to son, and vice versa ^ Each may claim the palm and likeness of 
the other. 

Dr. P. Well ! Well ! What a coincidence ! The friendship of 
other climes returned to nestle in the vallt-y of the Greenbrier ! 
Romantic episode ! Most tender accident ! 

Mrs. S. {Changing fan to left hand.) Grace, dear, and must you 
pay that visit, now? Make, then, the Doctor known to our sweet 
friend, but from your Attic cruise restore him soon. 

Dr. P. {AHde ) Ah ! generous heart, how sweet the prospect ! 

Grace. I'd better, thanks, mamma. And duty once, at least, 
will rest o'erpaid. {To Doctor) You'll be, I'm sure, companion 
to my way ! 

Dr. P. With all my heart ! {Bowiftg ) Mrs. Stockton, son, till 
shortly ! {Exeunt Grace and Dr. Paddleford.) 

Mrs. S. How travel, Harry, doth refine our tact ! 

Harry. Clever enough ! Grace took the cue. 

Mrs. S. Ha ! Ha ! Our signals never fail But tell me about 
yourself.. Where from— employed, how — why here — and when ! 

Harry. Where we parted. In nothing. To worship you. But 
now. Yet soft ! Time speeds. Father is winged. 

3Trs. S. You are so bashful, so confused, by numbers. With 
one — one woman — at a time, your confidence is valor. He will, of 
course, return. He loves me much. He will expect to find us 



16 WHITE SULPHITE SPRINGS, 

here. Were it kindly in me, or filial in you, to plan his disappoint- 
ment ? 

Harry. Both ! Encouragement must end ! 

Mrs. S. You mean for him, and my indulgence lavished but on 
you. Allans! I'll weigh your gratiuide. {Exeunt) 

Enter Bradford, Dr. Paddle ford and Harry. 

Bradford. Objection is taken to Mrs Stockton's title to the 
plantation, on the ground that, under the Will, through which she 
claims, executed by Winston Harding, shortly before his death, in 
1827, the property was vested in his son, Marshall, not in fee sim- 
ple, but in fee tail male general, and that, at no time, after the 
death of Marshall, could Roscoe. (Marshall's only son,) so alienate 
the estate, as to prevent its passing, '^pon his own decease, to such 
son of his as might them be living, in the actual case, to Frank, his 
sole child, born in 1845, six years before his father's death. 

Dr. P. Tail male. Sir ! It's confounded black-mail ! They 
take her for a goose-berry-fool, or a jelly tart, and would devour 
her, accordingly. (Aside.) And, ah ! the sweet repast ! 

Harry. The Will seems plain. Let's further hear it 

Bradford. {Reading .) " I give and devise all my real estate unto 
my son Marshall, for atid during the term of his natural life, and no 
longer. ' ' 

Dr. P. How, then, could Marshall get, grab or appropriate more 
than a life estate ! He died, Sir, in 1840. 

Bradford. { Co7itinuing reading. ) ' ' And, after his decease, unto 
such son as he shall have, lazifully to be begotten, and, in default of 
such issue,'" 

Harry. Roscoe was Marshall's son. Legitimacy never doubted. 
Born, eighteen-twenty. Died, eighteen-fifty-one. 

Bradford. {Still reading.) " C/nto Harvard College, its stccces- 
sors and assigns. ' ' 

Dr. P. Isn't the estate expressly transfered, on the death of 
Marshall, unto his lawful son ? Wasn't Roscoe that son ? Zounds, 
Sir, these knavish lawyers think they are dealing with Bedlam ! 
Egad ! How I would like to dust their seedy jackets ! 

Bradford. Roscoe, shortly before his marriage, conveyed the 
property to his sister, Medora, who, soon after, became Mrs. Minot, 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 17 

and in 1850, while a widow, transferred it in turn, to one Long- 
fellow, under whom, in 1857, Mrs. Stockton acquired it. 
Harry. Title good as Victoria's ! Plain as reading ! 
Dr. P. And why have they mingled Frank, Sir, in this business ? 
He did'nt honor existence with his presence, until his father's deed 
was three years old. The objection is trumped up and cooked to 
order. It's malicious slander of title. And the vituperators should 
be dragged to trial. Sir, to speedy trial. You entirely agree with 
us, of course, Sir. 

Bradford. I regret to say, the objection seems well founded. 
Unto the King's Bench came, a century since, almost the selfsame 
language of this Will, and thence being certified to Chancery's High 
Court, as making an estate tail male, was so in Chancery adjudged, 
the House of Lords affirming. 

Dr. P, So, Sir, we could throw off the yoke of England's King, 
but not the fetters of her corrupt and superserviceabie judiciary ! 
I'm no lawyer, thank Heaven ! but only the wigs and gowns and 
woolsacks of detestable monarchy, could have afflicted the landed 
gentry with a deliverance so false, infamous and tyrannical. 

Harry. Land, then, is Frank's. Cotton follows the land. Cot- 
ton, therefore, Frank's. Never was Mrs Stockton's. Her claim 
won't hold. Frank can't receive award. Engaged in rebellion. 
Government pockets the proceeds. 

Bradford. This scarcely seems to follow. It were unworthy of 
our government to refuse payment to Mrs. Stockton, for the cotton, 
upon pretext that she held no valid title to the land whereon the 
plant was grown. Her title to the land, while, through her agents 
(herself and family being abroad,) she continued in possession, was 
good against the United States, and all the world, save Frank. 
His rights, if any, against Mrs. Stockton, as to the proceeds of the 
cotton, in case she receive them from the government, can be sat- 
isfactorily arranged, of course, in the amicable adjustment which 
will be made, as I trust, of her title to the plantation, an adjustment 
rendered easy, under the local Code of 1852, converting all estate 
tail, then existing, into estates absolute, or in fee simple. 

Dr. P. Don't mention estatt-s tail, or tail male ! Here, the en- 
tire tale is of disaster female. Medora Harding opens the list of 
sufferers. And Minot, her husband, was son to my mother's sister, 
Colston, thus implicating my connections in this odorous mess of 
law and lawyers ! 

Bradford. Let us hope for some friendly solution. {Exeimt,) 



18 WHITE SULPHUR SPEINGS. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Stanhope. It's all in this Sulphur Water ! I'm never in love. I 
never flirt. I never become sentimental. No paint, powders, rib- 
bons or ruffles are wasted on me. Mothers encourage my innocent 
attentions and fathers promote my safe acquaintance. — I never 
drink the water ! It is the most insidious — amatory — provocative — 
demoralizing — liquid on earth. One goblet would cause a Cardinal 
turn Turk — Diana herself sigh for a husband. 'Twould make "the 
Papa of the world, Mamma." Christianity ought to fill up the 
Spring. 

Enter Bertha. 

Ah ! Miss Joinville ! The top of this lovely morn to her ! 

Bertha. And to you, Mr. Stanhope ! I go but to my cottage. 
Have you naught better, so far join me, pray. 

Stanhope. Thanks ! Thanks ! Miss Joinville ! You teach me 
that I misconstrue no goodness from your sex. I never drink the 
Water ! 

Bertha. Your position is, indeed, exceptional. You are the 
same considerate and reliable friend to us all. We feel secure in 
your companionship, and ceremony hangs, like shield unused, 
within our armony. 

Stanhope. {Bowing.) You flatter me. Miss Joinville. My planter- 
manners are untaught in graceful compliment. — I never drink the 
Water ! 

Bertha. No ! Mr. Stanhope, you require it not. The fount of 
health is yours already. 

Enter Lefroy. 

Lefroy. I was just seeking you, Miss Joinville. 

Bertha. {Introducing.) Mr. Stanhope ! Mr. Lefroy.— And how 
might I oblige you ? 

Stanhope. {Aside.) Don't oflfer him any Sulphur Water ! Miss 
Joinville, the port is reached, your pilot takes his leave. The less 
reluctantly, that you remain in such choice company. 

Bertha. {Advancing.) Construe me not so strictly ! Must you 
retire ? Remain still yet, I beg. 



WHITE SULPHTTR SPRINGS. 19 

Stanhope. I must renounce the pleasure. It is not easy so to do, 
believe. 

Bertha. Then, till the afternoon, adieu. {Exit Stanhope^ 
bowing.) 

Lefroy. {Aside.) The afternoon ? What's here ? — A friend of 
yours ? 

Bertha. I hope so, as I am, indeed, to him. — You are not jeal- 
ous, hence ? 

Lefroy. Why, if you like him, so shall I, {Aside,) — away. — Yet 
I've not seen you ! 

Bertha. No ? What would you that I do ? It is my hour to 
write. Your looks say, Nay ! Exaction and Mr. Lefroy are still, I 
find, united. {Aside.) I shall, anon, divorce you. 

Lefroy. Exaction, Bertha? — Miss Joinville !— Pardon ! From 
breath so gentle flows rebuke ? 

Bertha. I mean, — persuasion. 

Lefroy. And in so saying, make me whole again. See yonder 
nodding oaks ! They beck us to their shade. There shall we rest 
the firmer friends. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Major. 

Major. What has become of old Esculapius ! He's not with the 
mother. She it must have been, seated with Paddleford. fove 
regnante, she's handsome ! I hope the daughter resembles her. I 
wonder where she is. You might as well search for the missing 
Pleiad, as for anybody at this place. People get lost while you are 
talking to them. I'll still after, the chase is not yet warm. {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford and Grace. 

Dr. P. Yes ! Yes ! ^^arry has fine appearance. But he is with- 
out ties, without occupation, without destiny ! Nature and advan- 
tages, to what have they not given him claim ! He has refused 
everything. He must now marry, — settle down into respectability, 
if not into usefulness. 

Grace. Ha ! Ha ! Mr. Paddleford a husband ! He were, as 
likely, an abbot in a monastory. Wedlock, after all, is the expedi- 
ent of convenience. Mr. Paddleford has everything to lose, nothing 
to gain — by so unnatural a complication. 



20 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINCIS. 

Dr. P. My dear Miss Grace ! I — I — Suffer me to recall my 
scattered senses. Such sentiments astound me. You are the matri- 
monial Borgia of "The White" Hymen's image — breaker! 

Here is Harry, already saturated with perverted principles, thrown 
under your ascetic influence. Here I, destined once more, per- 
haps, to feel the throb of tenderness. Here, just arrived, a charm- 
ing friend, yet blushing with my assurance that he shall, within one 
hour, know you. And all my hopes, my calculations, prayers 

Enter Major. 

Ah ! my good Sir ! your name was on my lips Miss Stockton ! 
Major Harding ! — a gentleman to value. How well such words be- 
come him, later judge. 

Major. The gratitude I owe the Doctor must not mar my in- 
terests. (Tci Doctor.) Unspeak, I beg, your over-fair opinion ! 

Grace. It shall not harm you. The scales I'll keep void of en- 
conium. But share, I pray, our ramble. 

Major. With thanks ! Such kindness colors happiness itself 
{Exetmt.) 

Scene V. Oaks, opposite Baltimore Row. 

Lefroy and Bertha, seated. 

Bertha. You insist, then, you had not forgot me. 

Lefroy. Forgot you. Bertha? With flow'rets fresh, I twine your 
image day by day, and there, as at an altar, lisp my matin and my 
vesper prayer. — Do you love me, Bertha ? 

Bertha. {Coyly.) I know not what I should reply to that. You 
have given me no reason to answer — now — in words 

Lefroy. No reason, Bertha ? I have not asked you to marry 
me— I know not that you would. — And "The White Sulphur" is 
no place for a formal proposal. But I have sworn I never loved, 
could love, but you. 

Bertha. You have. And did I not answer in return with fair en- 
couragement as maiden modesty might grant ? 

Lefroy. Yes ! Bertha, yes ! To seal the sweet confession — [Kiss- 
in j her hafid.) — 

Bertha. O, Pray !— Now, don't !— Do, please ! — Desist !— You 
must ! — Now, come ! — I won't 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 21 

Enter Dr. Paddleford, Major and Grace. 

Grace. You'll pardon this intrusion, Bertha, when that it brings 
such better compliments than mine. Miss Joinville ! Doctor Pad- 
dleford and Major Harding ! prove to them both good friend ! 

Bertha. {Confused ^ bowing.) Sure, I must need Be seated, 
pray {All sit, save Lefroy. Awkward silence.) 

Dr. P. Yes ! Yes ! We started to your quarters ! 

Lefroy. {Advancing.) Miss Stockton ! I am charmed 

Bertha. {More confused.) I crave forgiveness ! Dr. Paddleford, 
Major Harding ! — Mr- Lefroy. {First two bow to Lefroy, and he to 
Grace and them, Major silting next Bertha, Lefroy next Grace.) 

Dr. P. Miss Joinville, I must now, upon engagement, proceed to 
Mrs. Stockton's. This sylvan scene can miss me not. Miss Gracei 
I shall report you of the nymphs. I bow to all ! {Exit.) 

Lefroy. {Aside.) What can I say?— How shall I begin? Miss 
Stockton, I — I was just about to call on you. 

Grace. On the like mission, doubtless. Never with the same 
result. 

Lejroy. {Embarrassed.) Not with the same result. Oh! No! — 
Certainly not.— I — I meet you, now, don't I? I — I should have 
found you out ! Shouldn't I ? 

Grace. As I, Sir, now, have found you out. 

L''froy. {Aside.) I believe she saw me ! — She did, I'm certain ! 
Witnessed everything 1 I'll change the conversation. Major Hard- 
ing, you must persuade Miss Joinville to show you her portfolio. 
The two Virginias live transplanted by her pencil. 

Major. I should be greatly honored ! But, truth to tell, no 
critic's eye is mine. The effect, in general, only, is my guide. 
'Twill lead to pleasure, where Miss Joinville paints. 

Bertha. You shall see all. Sir, as your leisure claims, though all 
be less than much. 

Grace. You have not slighted Lover's Leap ! Some rustic wild, 
some opening view, adorns your page, I know. 

Bertha. A few, I own. Another ends the series. 

Grace. I snail claim to see the finish. {Bows.) 

Major. {Bowitig.) Au revoir. {Exit Major and Grace.) 

Bertha. {Archly.) I am so confused! I scarce can think, much 
less resolve. 

Lefroy. Anything occurred ? transpired ? 



22 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Bertha. Pray, for the moment, leave me. I must reflect. Soon 
shall we be together. 

Lefroy. Till then, sweet maid, adieu ! {Exit.) 

Bertha. This silly and transparent manikin ! His craft shines 
through him. And yet he thinks— has thought— me mad in love. I 
play the game more skilled than he. {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Where I did leave them, there have I searched in vain. 
They are flown ! Of course ! That Harry has invented some subter- 
fuge to decoy her away. She else were anchored to the spot. For 
truth she is — all frankness, ever. — What brings him here ? Oni°! 
never sees me strutting about Lisbon, Venice or Berlin, like a fire- 
pheasant in springtime. Or purring, like a tom-cat, in the salons of 
London or Paris. I never interfere with the affairs of other people. 
I stand in the way of nobody. Why should he interpose between 
the solitary attachment I have formed since parted from his sainted 
mother ? I can't challenge him. No ! I can't even break to him 
the tender situation. And I won't ! It does not concern him. It's 
none of his business. His advice was not requested about my first 
alliance, and would be superfluous in this. A plague upon him ! 
If they still linger on earth. I'll find them ! {Exit.) 

Enter Major and Grace, who sit. 

Major. Not yet. Remain ! Here must I woo. 

Grace. Indeed ! When was my duty in a foreign mint thus 
stamped ? 

Major. Since first we met, I trust, as mine at yours. Learn, 
love, to wear the seal. You much become such golden prmt. 

Grace. 'Tis no true metal, as I fear. But know, you are pro- 
voking ! 

Major. Your pardon, loveliness ! 'Tis diffidence that scants my 
tongue. 

Grace. For brief acquaintance, you are bold enough. 

Major. Yes ! for a frozen Swede or sledded Pole. But, love, we 
will not dwell abroad. Our life of melody shall charm the native 
heather. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 23 

Grace. You discourse idly. Turn to more timely themes. Have 
you met Mr. McAlister. {Nodding.) 'Tis lie now in the distance, 
an " old school " gentleman, and twice elected Governor. 

Major. As yet, I have not. In my own canvass, I had over- 
looked another's.— You first I heard of when I came, and here we 
are together ! Is it not rapture's self? We'll have no wedding 
breakfast, Grace. How many waltzes may I claim tonight ? 

Grace. Such only as your diffidence has earned. 

Major. No ! — 'twere to take all ! Say three. Enough, I'm sure, 
to make green the Gods that from Olympus eye our steps. 

Grace. You may not please me in the first. 

Major. The fault will not be mine. 

Grace. Well ! If I like you, hope to find I am not disobliging. 

Major. You like me, now. I have already pleased you. Train 
this tender shoot to mount in fragrance to the height of love. 

Grace. I see. Sir ! the flattery you will not accept from a friend, 
you are not too proud to receive from yourself. You are much too 
vain — and — overfree ! 

Major. Of this rebellion you will sure repent ! When we are 
married, I must punish you, 

Grace. Thus mated, faith ! were punishment enough ! 

Major. I did but jest. Ah ! No ! I'll never vex you, willingly. 
Command, rule, sway ! You shall be sovereign o'er all things but 
one. 

Grace. That one, of course, yourself. 

Major. Fair railer, no ! I mean, save Love. There will I 
wrestle you for empire ! Elsewhere, allegiance loyal, homage, 
fealty are thine. Here, I'll dispute your crown, and sweeten com- 
bat blow for blow. 

Grace. No more ! {Aside.) Beshrew that honied tongue ! I 
should not thus have listened. I mu-it now leave you to your valued 
self ! — You'll never, sure, fall out ! {Exit.) 

Major. The dream is ended and the vision's fled. {Exit.) 

Scene VI. Near Chalybeate Spring. 

Harry Paddleford and 3/rs. Stockton, seated. 

Harry. How beautiful ! You are so, ever ! You will not love. 
I cannot win vou. All this I feel. I still adore. 



24 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Mrs. S. Why must you, Harry ? I hold you as my favorite. 
Break not the bond. Of all my lovers, you alone I prize, and you, 
not in that quality, but as some gentle, fond gazelle. 

Harry. Why must I ? Love of conquest ! Ardor of the chase ! 
Explain, I cannot. Say you loved me. My fondness would fly. 
You will not love. The flame increases. 

Mrs. S. Thus have you ever been. The Rhine, the Seine, the 
Thames, have seen you win the gentlest hearts, to cast them quick 
away ! Your pleasure, like the bubble clasped, was ended in pos- 
session. Strange perversity. 

Harry. 'Tis true ! My nature still ! The leopard's spots un- 
changed. 

Mrs. S. Now, for your sake, {Patting his hand,) would that we 
both had hearts, and I of mine were mistress. 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. (Aside.) The mystery is over ! The riddle and its 
answer appear together ! The fellow is my rival — my riparian mar- 
plot ! They have been billing and cooing here, like turtle doves, 
an hour, at least. (Adva^icing .) Ah ! Mrs. Stockton, Madam ! 
And you. Sir ! Await my return ? Yes ! I perceive ! Awaiting it 
quite patiently. Without a murmur! But not where 1 left you. 
Oh ! No ! — Too unromantic ! Too, open, public, accessible, for the 
nature of the ceremonies. Yes! Entirely! The scene is changed ! 
And from Cupid's bower, the delightful drama reopens with absorb- 
ing interest. 

Mrs. S. (Soothingly^ You, Doctor, can have no cause for 
jealousy. Others, perhaps, may have. Not you, good Doctor. 
'Twas long since I had met your son, and we had much to say. The 
interruptions at our former seat, had left untouched the chapter. 
If, by the change, we something lost of you, you here rest captive 
till the debt be paid. 

Harry. Do, father ! Yield ! Remain. 

Dr. P. No 1 It grows towards my whist. Forgive my hasty and 
ill-judging speech ! I was o'erwarm with exercise. You both are 
right. Except by stealth, we snatch no converse here. {To Mrs. S.) 
The eve must claim our wanted stroll. Shall we return ? 

Mrs. S. Yes ! good my friend ! 'Tis later than I thought. 
{Exeunt.) 

End of Act I. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPEINGS. 25 

ACT H. 

Scene I. Hotel Office. 

To Room Clerk, behind Counter, enter Captain of Watch. 

Capt. There's a peddler making here. Looks like a Hebrew. 

Clerk. Order him ofif ! Arrest him ! Throw him in the creek ! 

Capt. Are you crazy ? He hasn't peddled yet. He may want a 
room, for what we know. 

Clerk. If he does, I can't be half the lunatic that he is. 

Capt. It would certainly be luck to get someone in that Old Ball 
Room. 

Clerk. I know people won't go there. 

Capt. You're talking about guests. But the niggers go there. 
And, hang me ! if we ain't burnt up through their vices and keer- 
lessness- Three watchmen can't patrol " The White." 

Clerk. Well, if you think the countryman of Dinah and Bath- 
sheba will improve the moral situation, I don't see the security he 
offers us against fire. 

Capt. The small Jew merchant, like the small Christian merchant, 
has sometimes committed arson, to collect insurance on stock. But 
every peddler is his own insurer. His pack carries no policy. Be- 
sides, it's always been said, and I firmly believe, that Old Lady of 
the Spring won't allow felony to be committed here. {Exit.) 

Enter Minot. 

Clerk. Well, Moses, how's your brother, Aaron ? 

Minot. He gome nod doo der bromist lant !— I vaund a leedle 
rume, blease — Bood me vere I podders no vine beobles Der bard- 
ritge musd nod eggsbegd some aiks she have not lait. 

Clerk. We can only accommodate you in the Old Ball Room. 
That will be twenty-five, a week, in advance, with right to sell, as 
far as we can give any. Money refunded, /re rata, if stay less than 
a week. 



26 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS.. 

Minot. En atfance ? En Penshamin vas der down Ono ! Pud ad 
Vide Zulver, id musd pe O Yez ! Dake der dwenty-vife. {Handing .) 

Clerk. Your meals will be served when the children and nurses 
have theirs. 

Minot. Zo ? Veil ! I vond dare my karmends nor vear zome 
zag-cloades ! I know der olife dree vas nefer usevull nor peaudi- 
vull enouve doo geeb gombany mid der balm dree ! Geeve me dot 
ben, blease. {Registers.) 

Clerk. {Reading.) '' Isaac Cohen, Va."' {To servant.) Front! 
Old Ball Room. {E.veunt omnes.) 



Scene II. Trees in front of Carolina Row. 

Enter Major and Harry Paddleford. 

Major. I understand the situation, exactly. What would you 
do, Paddleford? 

Harry. {Aside.) For — the — Stocktons — renounce. Against 
others, assert title. {To Major.) Can't advise you! Disqualified 
through interest. Merely state circumstances. Don't be percipi- 
tate. Involved, is much money. 

Major. Why has not this opportunity fallen upon some soul re- 
ceptive, that would, with joy, improve it? — to him who ''dings'" his 
neighbors behind their backs, and the game only when he loses 
it? — who buys his lottery-ticket on the sly, and, at down-town lun- 
cheon, orders his whiskey in teacup argent, supporting spoon jlotant? 

Harry. Can't speculate about it. His turn next, possibly. For- 
tune has changeful tides 

Major. To me you bring but fruit that turns to ashes ou the Hd — 
waters I cannot taste — bonanzas that I may not mine. I dismiss the 
cotton, to which, as such, my legal claim could be no greater than 
your own. {Resolutely.) And as to the Plantation, I'll do what my 
father intended to do; what, if capable, he would have affected; 
and what, if incompetent, he would have desired me, when quali- 
fied, to perform in his stead. 

Harry. You astound ordinary mortals. Can't take your alti- 
tude. You need my philosophy. Look out for self. Let others do 
likewise. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 27 

Major. To the person in possession , claiming through my father's 
deed, I release all interest in the land, and, if the useless be re- 
quired, in the cotton, and its proceeds, as well. Money? Would 
I had some ! I'm as poor, Paddleford, as a church mouse— yes, in 
attendance, poorer. But my duty is obvious. Bid the gentleman 
send his papers, for execution. 

Hany. And now, the climax! Could Faith believe it? Mrs. 
Stockton's the gentleman ! 

Major. Some little breath — ccssura — pause. Mrs. Stockton ? — 
That alters circumstances. I must consider. 

Harry. No ! I have anticipated. She suspects nothing. And 
need know, when ? Not while here. Information afterwards, im- 
material. 

Major . I could not woo the maid who was forbid, by some im- 
agined favor of the past, frankly to say me Nay ! Too delicately 
grateful to feel unconstrained in virgin choice. 

Harry. War and Love ! I've passed through both. All's fair 
in either. 

Major. They each do so inflame our passions, that men, in mad- 
ness, oft see not, or seeing, spurn not, things, to normal vision, 
most ignoble. No more of truth dwells in so rank an adage. 

Harry. The maid's been won ! Unaided won, "true blue" ! 
But hear my plan. Lawyer here draws documents. You execute, 
after dinner. Competent Notary at Hotel. I'll telegraph counsel. 
Write and send papers. Forbid detailed information, here. De- 
cision on claim, only. Wednesday brings him writings. 

Major. I do consent. You should have been a woman, Paddle- 
ford. You have a knack for intrigue, would lead man past salva- 
tion. 

Harry. No ! Only to Grace ! Find we Stanhope. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Bradford, Mrs. Stockton and Grace. 

Bradford. I deem myself mo.st fortunate. Returning to my 
northern home, from private business in the West, something al- 
lured me to survey this famed resort. My venture, ladies, had rich 
cargo found in your acquaintance, but, odd to tell, I here have met 
some distant kin. Let me now take a leave, not long, of presence 
which I feel has wrought so much my pleasure and my good. {Exit.) 



28 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Mrs. S. Adieu, then, but till shortly. {To Grace.) I am strangely 
drawn towards him, daughter ! Were we companions or partakers 
of an elder life? Does the secret of my blood flow in his veins, or 
dwell in his breast ? 

Grace. And I, mamma, have feelings weird as yours. He seems 
to bear me to some unknown past, and yet, so gently, fartherly, I 
would not willingly resist. And when you faltered forth, you were 
to kindred stranger, his visage seemed to break in holy light, and 
beg to lead you to them. 

Mrs. S. Too much of him we cannot see. 'Tis well, ha ! ha ! he 
is so proper, stately and respectable. He might find, else, two lov- 
ers, or two enemies, classes equally indefatigable, and, to fourscore, 
one might think, equally inconvenient. {Exeimt.) 

Enter Lefroy, letter in hand. 

Lefroy. Sometime coming ! '^ Paris, July 30th.'" (Sits.) "Your 
absent, but ever-loving, Dora.'' And then her admonitions ! {Reads.) 
'"If you must go to those rebel springs, take no part, if you love me, 
in their unseemly frivolities, but confine your intercourse to those 
whotn years have rendered serious.'' {Replacing letter in envelope.) 
The suspicious little vixen ! Why couldn't she trust me ? Even 
now, the gravity of my deportment almost gives offense to those 
around me. But this premature interference 

Enter Minot, bearing tray, containing goods. 

Minot. Somedinks sheab, shutge! Der liperal shall pe mate vad ! 

Lefroy. Hello ! old Deuteronomy ! — O ! I'm stout enough ! Set 
down your "Old Dog Tray," — "ever faithful" to his owner's 
pocket, I dare say. {Examines contents.) 

Minot. Shutge, you hafe a vine vamiliar shbirid. Zome klufs, 
shen'ral ? Varrandet, hant unter digh ! Mate vor dees fery blace. 
Yusd your numper. Doo Tollars ! 

Lefroy. Oh ! no ! Judah ! Come down a hundred cents ! 

Minot. Der puyer poasds ven he hafe gone avay. Veil ! I some- 
dime zell 'em. Ef I geebs der vig-dree, I eads der vruid. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) I'll make friends with him. They seem dear, 
Judah ! but here's your money. {Handing.) Anything to kill time 
at this hour, when the place is more than positively hateful. 



WHITE SULPIirR SPRINGS. 29 

Minoi. Like Vistom, I lofe vad lofes me. I nod gomblain. 
Lefroy. And, then, the indecencies around you ! People are so 
mixed up, that they're their own nieces and nephews. And act- 
ually boasting about the connection ! 

Minot. Veil, Moses' mudder vas his vadder's aund. Unt Apra- 
ham, I pleefe, marriet his sisder-een-halve. Pud, kuf 'ner, ve musd 
shbeag een visbers 'poud beobles here. You hafe as vine a bet ove 
hair as Apsolom. Pedder dry doo geeb id, shen'ral. 

Lefrny. The men I despise. I'm good for any two of them, 
armed or unarmed But, O ! O! the times I've had with the women! 
{Drops ielter ) Some of them run after me, until I'm really wear- 
ried in escaping them. 

Minot. Zent zome mizes mongsd der Vilisdines ! Veil ! I al- 

vays trings vrom my own zisdern. Pud shdolen vaaders is shfeed. 

Lefroy. Do you know, Israel ? — now, in confidence, Israel, I'm 

going to be married, no ! — not exactly married — I mean I'm already 

engaged, to some half dozen of them. 

Mi7iot. Veil! Veil! Py shiminy ! Der ozdridge peads der horse, 
put dees peads eferyding ! I can zee, kuf 'ner, you musd pe asgrade- 
vull doo der laties as der ladder rain. 

Lefroy. Yes ! And Ive been reflecting quite seriously about it. 
I shall really piiy them, when my time comes to leave. 

Minot. I hobe der silfer goris gomes nod unloos't, nor der gol- 
len powls gids proge. Der rafens mide veet 'em. 

Lefroy. I, of course, have the pick But there's lots going on 
here ! 

Minot. Veil ! Der passin' shdranger mide blug zome grabes een 
der feenyart ! 

Lefroy. Say, Judah, do you never get in, on the sly — on the sly, eh? 
Minot. I hafe mate a kufenand mid my eyes, shutge ! — Yacop tit 
gode his lek proge, reslink mid only vone anshel. 

Lefroy. Now, look here, old Ararat, no nonsense ! You know 
all that is going on at this place, and mingle with everybody. 
Here's a tenner. {Handing bill.) If you can arrange for me some- 
thing — something choice, select, really appetizing 

Minot. Guf 'ner, you ees doo shenerous ! — Pionte or prunedde ? 
Any bardigular hour, any brezize blaze, shen'ral ? 

Lefroy. All cats, they say, are grey at night. You attend to the 
details. Only notify me in time. There's one of my girls, now. 
{Exit.) 



30 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Minot. This dwarf a crane might swallow, struts, brags and 
through the quick of truth doth pierce, like muddled trooper at some 
village inn. {Perceiving and securing Letter, examines marks on 
Envelope.') My good Lord Julius ! A lady's hand, that bears some 
character. {Smelling.) A billet so perfumed, ten thousand surges 
of the sea have not damp'd its fragrance. A vulgar eye should not 
invade such sweetness, nor shall, although I turn the missive to 
account. 

Scene IIL Walk^ amid Woods, beyond Howard' s Creek. 
Enter Major and Grace. 

Grace. {Stopping.) I fear me, we are lost. , 

Major. Never was man more fairly won ! 

Grace. No levity! {Thunder and Lightning.) The storm! 
Whither shall we betake us ? ( Thunder^ Nearer it grows ! 

Major. I, for my heedlessness, do much deserve- But you, what 
hast thou done, to share, in rude alarms, my drenching? We can't 
remain where we are. {Thunder and lightning continue.) Not 
Ariadne's thread could guide us back. {Poiftting.) We'll make yon 
light ! Courage ! A brave heart and strong arm are near you. 
{Approaching storm still heard ) 

Grace. {Hurrying .) I'll strive. O, that we came ! {Exeunt^ 

Scene IV. Thornton' s Cottage, light zvithin. 

Enter Paul Thornton, stalwart ancient, with sombrero, open buck- 
skin jacket, troivsers in boots, and gazes, from his Porch, 
towards the Woods. 

Thornton. People loses their senses when they gits in love ! 
Dog'd if they don't ! Here comes a couple was so taken up with 
each other, I wonder they heard it thunder. But, every summer, 
we has the same thing. {Storm continues and rain commences.) 

Enter Major and Grace, 

Major. We come from "The White," Sir, and, having lost our 
way, desire 



WHITE SFLPIITTR SPRINGS. 31 

Thorfiton. And welcome ! — I reckon I know it all ! — But in from 
the storm ! In! {All ettter.) 

Scene changes from outside Cottage, to decent parlor within, storm 
and rain increasing. 

Thornton. Jist feel as free as at home, and welcome as my own. 
Don't think you is the fust, no more'n you'll be the last, to get be- 
wildered in them amazin' laberinths 

Major. It is some comfort that we are not pioneers in such em- 
barrassment as confronts us 

Thornton. And have to spend the night here, as best they could. 

Grace. Remain all night ! Never ! never ! Mr. Mr. 

Thornton. F'aul Thornton, Miss, your servant. 

Major. No ! No ! That seems impossible ! 

Thornton. A fox can't hardly git to the Spring, tonight, even if 
it cl'ars. The Race and the Creek will be up, and the roads and 
paths blocked with fallen timber, that ain't to be got out, till 'light. 

Grace. Oh ! Mr. Thornton ! to what predicament your words 
consign me ! And then my mother, how shall she survive my un- 
known fate ! 

Major. I ought not to try for " The White," and leave you here 
alone. {Aside.) And I don't wish to. 

Thornton. Now. just listen to reason 1 Not drawin' no compar- 
ersons, you two ain't no better'n the couple that every season gits 
lost in the evenin', and is 'bliged to wait here till mornin' They 
becomes missed, and the Hotel guesses whar they is. {Thunder, 
lightni?ig and rain increase.) Now, if them iliments ever stops their 
clatter, I'll touch off one my little howitzers, and they'll know, over 
the hill, you're under Paul Thornton's pertection, and safe as in 
church. 

Enter Mother Craddock, courtesying . 

Craddock ! show Miss {Craddock courtesies.) 

Grace. Miss Stockton. 

Thornton. Up to daughter's. Sleep in the ne.xt room, and, if 
the lady don't object, keep the middle door ajar. She may git 
nervous. They often does. And 'mind cook, Craddock, to have 
supper for three {Exeunt Craddock, with a cotirtesy, and Grace.) 
Mr. — Mr. — What did you say your name was ? 



32 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Major. {Aside.) I didn't say! Harding — Harding, Mr. Thorn- 
ton. 

Thornton. I'll take you to my dungeon, whar you can spruce up, 
Mr. Harding, before table. Of course, the young lady bein' here 
tonight, jvc?^ can't stay, too. — What's the harm? — No more in you 
what goes, than in me what don't. But tongues will wag, and 
you can't stop 'em. So, 'fore bedtime, I'll tuck you in weather-coat 
and fishin'-boots, and walk you over to Squire Sam, my brother, 
'bout pistol-shot off, and he's always got room for menageries. 

Major. {Aside.) I hope there's nothing personal in this last as- 
surance ! I am quite satisfied of your good intentions, Mr Thorn- 
ton, but I'm not certain I'd be more censured, or censurable, for 
staying by her, than in trusting her to the hands of strangers. 

Thornton. Come ! Come ! Mr. — Mr. — Harding. Them what 
bears good will to each other, ain't never strangers. 

Major. The objection to my continuing here, overnight, I should 
never, T confess, have anticipated. Wasn't it one of your name, 
who knocked down the pugilist, for ogling Miss Pickens, at the 
tableaux ? 

Thornton. O ! them's by-gones ! I fetched him one crack. 

Major. I'll do as you advise, friend Thornton, but remember 
how priceless the gem confided to your keeping and your honor. 
{Exeunt.) 

Scene V. Mrs. Stockton's cottage. 

Mrs. Stockton and Bertha within, storm without. 

Mrs. S. How it rages ! What end will be" theirs? Could they 
thus venture ? 

Bertha. Take heart, dear Madam. I trust that Major, in crisis 
like to this, and in very truth believe they've made safe harbor. 

Mrs. S. Were I thus satisfied ! How frightful the tumult ! And, 
then, the scandal ! A couple thus together — And for the night ? 
What will be thought ? 

Bertha. I cannot tell, I'm sure. The thoughts of others we, at 
most, surmise, and, when rightly guessed, form no just ground of 
quarrel. But let them here take slanderous shape in speech, in 
shrug, or wink, and, by a virgin's oath, I'll flout the proudest cul- 
prit to the face. 



I 



WHITE SFLPIIUR SPRINGS. 33 

Mrs. S. Brave girl ! — The tempest chafes. O ! heaven ! my 
houseless child protect ! {Rapping without.') She it may be ! Oh ! 
No ! but news of her. {Opens door, when, enter Harry Paddle ford.) 
Oh ! Mr. Paddlefoid ! what safety, comfort, tidings can you speak ! 
Harry. {Aside.) My vestments stream without. Eyes, as abun- 
dantly, within. {Bows.) Mrs. Stockton ! Miss Joinville ! Your 
anxieties are natural. Not removable instantaneously. Situation 
must medicine itself. Predicament no novelty. Occurs every sea- 
son. Harding's susceptible ! Yes ! dreadfully. His soul, naturally 
lofty. Now, his honor's engaged. He's Miss Grace's protector. 
She'll hear nothing sentimental. He's resourceful in emergency. 
They've found respectable asylum. Till morning, of course. All 
this I'll underwrite. 

Bertha. On lines like these, though briefer drawn, had I at- 
tempted to assure our friend. 

Mrs. S. Can naught be done ? How helpless are we when we 
need be strongest ! If 'scaped through this adventure, she'll never 
leave my side. No search, alas ! in this wild night is possible. 

Harry. Old story, at Office. Manager not disturbed. After 
storm, tidings certain. Will be sent you. Meanwhile, accept these 
comforts. Miss Grace is safe. Miss Grace is dry. Miss Grace is 
fed. She soon shall slumber. With morning will return. Mrs. 
Stockton, my sympathy ! Ladies, my good-night ! 

Mrs. S. and Bertha. Thanks, thanks, good-night ! {Exit Harry.) 

Mrs. S. A man well studied in the world, except as to his part 
therein. I'll wait the truce of favoring skies. Something may 
come to tranquilize these fears. 

Bertha. And, as your handmaid, I the vigil share. 



Scene VI. Thornton's Cottage. His Daughter's 

Aparttnent. 

Grace, seated, in night robe, preparatory to retirement, her hair, 
being dressed by Mother Craddock. 

Mother C. The supper ? La ! Miss ! we halways 'as good heatin'. 
But hi do 'opes you get lost next time, Miss, w'en game his hin sea- 
son. The wen 'son hand pheasants his fine. Miss ! This room are 
Miss 'Ellen's, Miss, hand hall the things you 'as hon. Miss,— some 



34 WHITE SULPHUR SPRI]SrC4S. 

hof them, hi means, Miss — his 'erne. She's hover hat Hunion, now. 
Hand, la ! Miss, the young men w'at hare ha-courtin' hof 'er ! 
Jimmj' Maypole, hand Dandy Gudgeon, hand Willie — but, marry 
come hup ! 'Ow hi gabbles hand sleeples your beauty hies, Miss ! 

Grace. Give me to know, good mother, I here rest safe and 
sound, and that my friends will feel so. (Gun fires.') 

Mother C. La ! bless your sweet cheeks, Miss, hif you be n't safe 
sleepin' with Mr. Thornton, you haint safe sleepin' with hany man !• 
{Another gun fires.) Hand sound. Miss ! W'y hi've bin livin' with 
'im these twelve years, come Candlemas, hand look hat me. Miss. 
There hain't no saint nor wirgin sounderer, hin hany part hof 'er, 
than hi his. Hand your friends. Miss ! W'y the two cannons 'as 
told 'em that the missin' his found hand 'oused, 'cordin' to custom, 
by Paul Thornton, w'at never forgits the ways hof lovers heven 
w'en they forgits themselves. 

Grace. This is a precious consolation, mother. But Major Hard- 
ing might not care to rank as my admirer, still less as something 
more. 

Mother C. {Bridling.) Hand ha pretty cre'turhis 'e then, Miss ! 
Don't keer to ! Marry come hup ! Hif 'es' got 'alf han hi. Miss, 'e 
keers in every spot habout 'im, from 'ead to foot ! W'at kind hof 
ha 'Ardin' might hit be. Miss ? 

Grace. Frank, yes ! — I think — Frank, — Harding. — We are but 
fresh acquaintances, you know. His father — let me see. they say, 
was Roscoe— and his mother — mother — in her maiden right — as I 
have learned, — was Rosa Loyall. 

Mother C. (Affected.) Ha ! Miss, your deary soul must bear 
halong with me ! You just brings water to me hies ! 'Er father 
was too horful rich to look hat. Hand hi was 'er maid. Miss ! La ! 
Miss, such times has they 'ad ! 'Ow they comes prancin' hup to 
their cottage, hin their coach-hand-four, the whip ha— crackin' hand 
the trumpet ha — blowin' ! Heven w'en Miss Rose got growed hup, 
la ! Miss, she could never leave me hat 'ome ! Hi dressed 'er, give 
'er 'er pills, 'tended 'er bath, (la ! Miss, for rale lovely, hif the 
Springs could 'ave seen 'er hin that bath !) hundressed 'er, hand 
looked hafter 'er things, just hinfant like ! One summer, hat " The 
W'ite," she meets Mr. 'Ardin. They was so much hin love, hon 
sight. Miss, they'd 'ave walked hinto ha wolcano, hand not knowed 
hit was 'ot ! 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 36 

Grace. And this Harding, was he so very handsome ? 

Mother C. Bless your dear 'art ! Miss, the most hiligant hies 
hever lit hon ! Them days, the trousers of the young beaux was 
like the skin hon ha heel, tight, Miss, tight has hany wax. Hand 
the fine ladies, kind 'er quiet, would drop their hies w'en 'e passed, 
to see them taperin' limbs. La ! Miss, 'e said hand done so many 
hoff— 'and things, 'e 'ad the ladies halmost hat 'is feet. But bless 
your sweet 'ead. Miss, to hexcuse such tittle-tattles hand hole folks 
tales. For your lovely 'air hare hall harranged ! 

Grace. I thank you for this aid, good mother. Yet pray, con- 
tinue. You interest me, greatly. [Aside.^ More than I care avow, 
I fear. 

Muther C. Well, Miss, hof course— next Spring— they was mar- 
ried, hand, habout five years hafter, they comes back to "The 
W'ite," with ha little four-year-hole boy, so like 'is father. Miss, 
nobody could say 'im Nay Hi were then with Mrs. 'Ampton, 
w'at's bin ha hangel for this many ha year 

Grace. And had Mr Harding no brother nor a sister? 

brother C. La ! Miss, before 'e got Miss Rose, 'is sister 'ad mar- 
ried ha Mr. Minor, hor some such name, hand, with 'er 'usband 
hand little son, was hat " The W'ite," w'en the 'Ardins' turned up. 
So, one day, w'en the two fam'lies was together, Mr. Minor, 'e calls 
me to 'im — we was become great friends, Miss— hand, before 'em 
hall, goes through ha performance— la ! Miss, you never saw hor 
'eard the likes— hand, says 'e, mother, don't never forgit this, hand 
halways remember the spot. 

Grace. I'm sure you obeyed his injunctions, mother. 

iVoiher C. They was that well meant. Miss, hi could'nt 'elp hit. 
Hand hever since hi were with Mr. Thornton, hi've bin keepin' 
comp'ny with that place, hand haddin' one mark there to hanother. 

Grace. I'll not inquire your secret, nor ask why you retain it, 
mother. 

Mother C. Many's the sorry day, Miss, hi's bin 'opin' hand 
prayin' to come 'cross some Mr. Minor's, or some Miss Rose's, 
child'in, hat "The W'ite." Hi would feel more comfortable like, 
w'en the hend comes. Miss, hif they knowed hit. 

Grace. Your opportunity has arrived, then, it would seem, with 
Major Harding. 

Mother C. {fndignantly.) 'E don't deserve hit, Miss ! Marry, 
come hup ! Don't keer, la ! to hadmire such ha face hand such ha 



36 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

woice ! 'Ow shamed Miss Rose 'ave bin hof 4m ! Hand wouldn't 
'is father 'ave scorched 'im 'ot hand 'eavy ! 

Grace. I've done him, mother, in your view, injustice. Let me 
recall my doubt. Plain as I deem myself, he is not wholly, I be- 
lieve, indifferent to that plainness. 

Mother C. Hof course not. Miss ! 'Ow could hanybody be ? 
Hain't 'e Miss Rose's son ? 'Is sparkin' father's, too ? Hi'll tell 
'im hall, Miss. Hand bless your 'art. Miss, git to sleep w'ile hi be 
gone. Hit wont be long. {Exreimt.) 



Scene VII. Thornton' s Cottage— Parlor. 

Thornton and Major, smoking, and preparing to leave Cottage. 
Enter Mother Craddock. 

Mother C La ! Mr. Thornton, bless my hies ! to think 'e be 
Miss Rose's son ! 

Thornton. It's a strange. fallin' together, Craddock ! But it's an 
ill wind what blows good to nobody. ( To Major.) Mother Crad- 
dock was your mother's nurse and maid. {Craddock courtesies.') 
And — now don't be blushin', Craddock, — no better heart don't beat. 
{Craddock courtesies again.) 

Major. That I'll warrant. {Advancing.) Your hand, good 
mother ! Be friend of mine e'en as of her who bore me. 

Mother C {Courtesying ) There somethin' hon me mind, sir 

Thornton. Craddock, don't be a-flirtin' with the gentleman ! 
He ! He ! He ! 

Mother C. {To Thomtoti.) La ! sir, 'ow you flusters me! {To 
Major.) Ha mightly 'urry his hi hin, sir, fear she git nervous, has 
Mr. Thornton says, without me. Bless 'er dear hies, 'ow could 
anybody 'elp to love 'er ! 

Major. I can't imagine — and have, surely, never tried. 

Mother C. Hi studies this by 'art sir, many ha year : — West hof 
Lover's Walk, hat the p'int hof 'Esitancy, be three hoaks, hand hin 
the souther'most, 'bout five foot from the groun', be two big nails ; 
hand 'twixt them nails, his driv', not many hinches hin the tree, ha 
'ollow steel, hand hin this steel be two small 'arts hof gold, w'at's 
linked together ; hand whosohever finds, hin love his hever 'appy. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 37 

Your Huncle Minor done hand told hall this, before my wery hies 
hand hears, Miss Rose hand 'usband standin' by, w'en you was four 
hears hole. Don't lose no time, sir, to lay 'and hupon them precious 
'arts! Hand so says hi, good night, sir ! {Exit courtesying.) 

Major. Good night, my mother's mother and my own ! — How 
past conceit of fable ! I thank thee, and could blindfold reach my 
oak. There will I play the Druid. 

Thornton. She's been a-carryin' that secret all these years, in her 
heart's heart. And she's as happy in puttin' it where it belongs, as if 
she'd handed over the seal of the Treasury. All luck and happi- 
ness, sir ! But them's fine trees. They ought 'er be saved, if they 
kin be. I'll git the place sawed and chiseled out, and the plug put 
back and composted, so it '11 grow in again. But it's movin' on to 
bedtime. {Exejmt.) 



Scene VIII. Road, between Spring and Lawn, 

opposite Alabama Row. 

Enter Minot. 

Minot. Why should this hand, or not, end or invite more care ? 
If Fate hath writ her sentence and its execution, there's no reversal. 
But soft ! Cast up accounts ! The subterranean Jailor lists the 
guilt of all his prisoners, and to each assigns, in burden purgative, 
his expiating task. He, just missed Heaven, delves not with him 
who ever trembled, in his mortal course, upon the rim of Erebus' 
dread kingdom. And so, this deed, if done, is added to my present 
load of sin. And yet, the sum of crime I still, perchance, may do, 
shall far outblack the past. On one side, smiles the hope of peni- 
tence, reform, of pardon. On the other, frowns the possibility of 
none. On both 

Enter Hygeia. 

Hygeia. Stay ! Thou art not what thou feignest, nor bent on 
holy canvass. 

Major. {Aside.) It can't be Old Nick, in doubt of my resolution, 
come to make sure of me ! — It seems of goddess port, though as- 
pects oft deceive. {To Hygeia.) How I could long to dally with 



38 WHITE SULPIirR SPRINGS. 

those eyes, but that necessity, with tyrant scourge, doth speed my 
pace. {Lefroy, on lawn, at distance, concealing behind shrubbery.) 

Hygeia. Thou can'st not, know, proceed, 'gainst my command. 

Minot. The vexing moment chides delay. — Tomorrow eve, fair 
queen. 

Hygeia. I bend towards thee. Thy feet are rooted as the oak. 

Minot. ( Vainly struggli?tg to proceed, Aside.) True, by the rood! 
I'll cross myself! Not fleeing, it's no fiend. {Enraged.) Away! 
thou liquorish footpad ! on thy life, away ! {Elevates arm.) 

Hygeia. Wilt so ? — Once more towards thee I incline. Thine 
arms are marble. 

Minot. {Aside.) As rigid as the arch. I can't think her of our 
earth. Spirit of evil is she not, as I, by test, have satisfied myself. 
{To Hygeia.) Mysterious being, who thus enthrall'st my frame and 
makes my will but consort to thine own, vouchsafe, if mortal ear 
may list, to teach me what thou art. 

Hygeia. Know, then, that I am Health, who offended with Man's 
vice and crime, his mad defiance of my rule, withdraw from busy 
mart and crowded town, to fix rhy temple at this spot, where, wink- 
ing at some mild infractions of my law, I yet condone no sin flagi- 
tious, nor any guilt abhored. For Health, like Virtue's self, is not 
alone of state corporeal, but of conceptions, aspirations, aims and 
every hidden current of the soul. Crime ever bred from some in- 
firmity, self-won, or handed down. AH villiany is but disease un- 
treated, or incurable. 

Minot. {Aside ) And to that temple, stand I here like pillared 
ornament {To Hygeia.) If that thou spring's! from fair Appollo's 
son, with one draft from thy magic bowl. I part thy realm and break 
no law within it. 

Hygeia. 'Twere wrong to say, I take thee at thy word, when, as 
thy plight attests, I may compel the deed. So, if it please you .'•tay, 
remain. Quaff" from this medicative fount. {He drinks.) Repent 
thy wicked thought, and let the transport of rekindled hope em- 
brace the stars. {Exit.) 

Minot. It does, while angels seem to answer, and claim thee sis- 
ter to them. {Exit.) 

Enter Lefroy. 

Lefroy. It was mere accident that I observed them. I was afraid 
to draw too near, and did'nt hear their conversation. But they ap- 



WHITE SULT'IIUR SPRINGS. 39 

peared to be in earnest. I wonder what time and place they've 
agreed on. That Jew, in principle, is as much Christian as I am. 
And he's got to be landed in our Calvin fold. — She seemed, in out- 
line, delicious. I'm certain that all my requirements will be satis- 
fied. — O ! O ! If I could only make her acquaintance, now! {Exit.) 



Scene IX. Thornton'' s Cottage— ht front of. 

Enter Thornton, Mother Craddock, Major and Grace. 

Thornton. The axes was started early. A sight of timber were 
down, and the waters was up. But you kin git 'long, now. {To 
Major, Aside.) I better wait 'bout the tree, till I hear from you. 

Major. {To Thornton and Mother C.) How shall thanks be ren- 
dered, from hearts too full for speech ! May Heaven prove as kind 
to each of you as both have been to us ! {Aside, to Thornton.) I'll 
notify you at what hour the men shall meet me. 

Grace. { To Thornton-^ Nor are words mine, to weigh such 
goodness, Sir ! I can to you address good-bye, but never to my 
recollections of you. {To Mother C.) Nor of you, good mother, 
who have been truly such, and that in parlous hour. 

Mother Craddock. Bless them dear hies. Miss, they fills me hown, 
ha — partin' ! We'll try to see you, Miss, hafore you leaves "The 
W'te." Hand hi 'opes w'en you hand Miss Rose's son comes back 
to the Springs, with your little boy, you won't never give me no 
secrets to keep, like that Mr. Minor. {Exeunt.) 

Scene X. Front of Louisiana Row. 

Enter Mrs. Stockton and Grace- 
Mrs. S. Now that our Iliads are ended, in joy of your return, I 

half forgive you, daughter. 

Grace. And only half, mamma ? You taught me, I was half of 

you. And to your moiety, or mine, comes pardon ? If yours, you 

but absolve yourself. If mme, remission still is incomplete. If half 

to each, one guilty quarter hold we, severally. 



40 WHITE St'LPHUR SPRINGS. 

Mrs. S. Take all, dear Grace, and that, without reproof. Hard- 
ing, at fault, in foresight, was not ill-behaved. Thornton was kind, 
and Mother Craddock I must know. Some little, useful thing, 
remember well to send them from New York. To offer recom- 
pence, would wound, I fear, their feelings, 

Grace. Thanks! thanks! mamma! I'll not forget. {Observing, 
picking up and examining envelope.) A Robin Hood amongst the 
unprotected ! An opened letter to Lefroy, mamma, from France, 
and penned in finest stroke. 

Mrs. S. It, doubtless, from his person dropped. Enclose it him, 
at Broadway. No explanation, dear, seems requisite. 
. Grace. Of course ! Yet is he of a nature to be lorn with restless 
doubt, or we or no descended to peruse it. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford and Maggie, tneeting. 

Dr. P. Ton my word ! Is this Maggie ? Why I have'nt seen 
you since last summer! How are you, Maggie? How have you 
been ? How's your father ? Where did you come from ? Where 
are you going ? Tell me all about yourself 1 

Maggie. O ! thank you, Dr. Paddleford, father and I are very — 
very well. I hope your own health is good. I have been leaving 
some flowers, and some maple sugar, in Colonnade Row, sir. I'm 
on my way home, now. 

Dr. P. I am so-so, yes, fairly so-so, Maggie. 

Enter Tom Yeates. 

Dr. P. How are you, Yeates ? Just inquiring about you. 

Yeates. Hearty, thank'e, sir. How's yourself, Doctor ? 

Dr. P, Not too bad. Twinge of gout, sometimes. Yeates, you 
are the most industrious man in the State. What are you about, 
now ? 

Yeates. Aimin' to keep that fool-made Reservoir from bustin' ! 
It's a bad job, though, sir, with such hands as they send me. 

Dr. P. Yeates, you must take good care of Maggie. Don't let 
any of the Greenbrier beaux run off with her, before next season. 
I've promised to wait for her. — Haven't I, Maggie? 

Maggie. Have you, sir? I don't know, sir. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 41 

Yeates. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Well, Doctor, I believe pretty much 
the whole county has promised the same. But she's got plenty of 
time. Come, Maggie, we must both be going. Good morning ! 
Doctor. 

Maggie. Good-bye ! Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Good-bye ! Good morning ! {E.veutit Yeates and J\[ag- 
gie.) A most worthy, hardworking man ! Maggie is quite a 
scholar for her years and surroundings, and she has youth and ap- 
pearance. A great favorite, too, throughout the neighborhood, 
and with all who visit here. I mean to do something for her, be- 
fore I die. ( Takiftg book Jrom pocket, and making ine^norandum.) 
There ! Another forget-me not ! {Exit.) 

Enter Stanhope and Bradford. 

Stanhope. These documents inform me, that your daughter, 
when just turned of age, converted her large fortune into money 
and exchange, and, with one Skelton Early, a married man, eloped 
to France. 

Bradford. Alas ! too true ! Would Heaven had made it 
false ! 

Stanhope. The deserted wife expired in November. He was 
lawfully married to his companion in flight, at Dumfries, in the fol- 
lowing January, and, in the Spring succeeding, a daughter was born 
to them, at Nice. 

Bradford. Mark ! mark ! nulHus Jilia the child was not ! 

Stanhope. Early, two years after, succumbed, in Rome, to fever. 
At the end of eight years of magnificient dissipation, his widow, 
then known as Madame Dulaney, in want, yielded up her erring 
spirit, at Vienna. 

Bradford. This, strand by strand, did I for ten years gather, un- 
conscious of her fate, till search had neared conclusion. Of her 
daughter, no trace could I discover. 

Stanhope. Sir, and good kinsman, let us not despair. There sits 
aloft a Cherub, that oft sends comfort to poor landsmen, as well as 
to poor Jack, when skies are dark and help seems most remote. 
{Exeunt.) 



42 WHITE SULPHITE SPEINGS. 

Scene XL Hesitancy Point. 

Minot seated on trunk of Oak which has been prostrated by lightning. 

Minot. {Contemplatively.) Behold this monarch of yesterday ! 
blackened with fluid stroke, now, but a house-maid's broom ! 
Generations that wooed beneath it, lie dismembered like itself. 
And {Picking up,) lo ! this cylinder, from its gnarled bosom 
wrenched ! {Strikes timber with cylinder, which, crumbling, reveals 
contents, wrapped in foil, which he examines.) Two golden hearts 
united ! And round them twined their epigram : 

Triie love shall bind. 
When these you find. 

Who planted them ? And why ? Perchance, as witness that it 
were more hard to find felicity in love, than spy a treasure in this 
heart of oak, whose riches only troops of centuries could lay bare, 
or that red hand which overthrows the citadel and hurls down the 
tower. {Pocketing the articles.) Though that I know they can as 
little grant, as feel, or fortune good or ill, I'll keep them for re- 
membrance of this hour. — No train before the evening, till when, 
with Christian patience, I must still be Jew. Then, to "fried 
chicken" Covington run down, there spend the night, and, for I 
know her Uncle is not here, in proper burnish reappear next morn, 
to try the best or worse. {Exit.) 

Enter Major. 

Major. I could'nt pause here, on returning with Miss Stockton. 
No need, good Thornton, of thy aid. My giant is no more ! And 
worse, lies disemboweled of its treasure. {Picks up rem.ains of 
cylinder.) The worthless tube is here, its talisman is gone ! Suc- 
cess to him before me ! He owed me no subscription, and I have 
no sense of injury to cultivate. — As only one person could secure 
the bauble, human happiness can't depend upon its discovery, with- 
out leaving mankind, at large, in a state of wretchedness. No ! if 
I've missed the assistance of magic, the natural comfort of Hope re- 
mains. When one door's shut, says the proverb, another is open. 
{Exit.) 

End of Act II. 



WHITE STTLPITTTR SPRINGS. 43 

ACT III. 

Scene I. Outskirts of Lewisburg. 

Enter, with rifles, two Villagers. 

ist. Villager. This is the third time, townsman ! Are we gitten' 
indifferent to our firesides ? Why, I seen Maggie no longer than 
yestidy. And there ain't her equal in this Valley. 

2d. Villager. And she's been raised on my knee, and yourn, and 
of every farmer in Greenbrier. She would'nt been left at home, by 
herself, if her father could have helped it. But hear me, neighbor, 
what's her wrongs is our wrongs, and our wives' wrongs, and our 
daughters' wrongs, and our sisters' wrongs. Do I say enough ? 

ist. Villager. Is he kotched, and bin reckergnized ? 

2d. Villager. Found up the road, at his mother's, under the bed, 
and brought back here to jail. He owned up to the sheriff and the 
Judge, and to the Commonwealth's 'Torney, who, some says, writ 
down his confession, 

ist. Villager. The devil 'ill light a new bonfire, this morning ! 
( Court house bell rings. ) 

2d. Villager. Come ! There's the 'sembly ! {Exeunt.) 

Scene II. Georgia Row, Lazan opposite to. 

Enter Minot, ivith tray, and Dr. Paddleford, meeting. 

Minot. Rinks, rippons, gorsed - guvers, enkagemend - shdog- 
gins ! 

Dr. P. This is a howdy-do ! 

Minot. Lofe-carders. lanjeree, invands' bins, duckers, pirtseyes 
unt all gonweenienzies ! 

Dr. P. (.Aside.) In the infant department, there's no occasion 
for immediate expenditure. No! not just yet! I'll investigate this 
new-fangled hosiery. But it would'nt do to be caught red-handed, 
as it were. Blue silk, and decorated, throughout, with white pig- 
eons ! (7b Minot.') I'll take these. Fold up in a giffy ! Never 
mind wrapping ! I'm in much haste ! 



44 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Minot. Vinesd nofeldy een zilk emproitery ! Den Tollar ! {Hands 
to Dr. P., zvho places ht inside breast-pocket of coat.) Lilag zilg lofe- 
carders der madge, Vife Tollar. 

Dr. P. {Aside.) Yes ! All engagements stand in need of love- 
guarders ! {Examining.) And these circular protectors, wear, like 

Medusa, snaky locks. In for a penny, in ( To Minot.) These, 

too ! Money for the whole ! {Pays, and receiving garters, puts 
thetn, unwrapped, in rear pocket of coat .) 

Minot. Sheab ! sheab ! kuf 'ner ! Kifen avay ! Kifen avay ! I 
gids proge der beeces ! 

Dr. P. {Aside.) These unmentionables, with their appurten- 
ances, will represent the wearer, wise as the serpent, harmless as the 
dove. Mrs. Stockton is both. I can't, at this stage, present them 
to her. But I'll see she learns I bought them — that I'm up to date — 
and — and — somewhat ticklish ! {Exit.) 

Minot. Shushpenters, goUars, gluvs, puddons, gourd -blasders, 
mousdadge-vags, gissin' gomvords ! 

Enter Grace and Bertha, pausing as they pass Minot. 

Bertha. {To Grace.) The moustached "vags" are already abun- 
dant ! 

Grace. And new ones, like Jonah's fruit, or vegetable, spring 
up, nightly. — In the comforts of osculation, I'll never believe. 

Bertha. We'll invest, then, in the "gourd-blasders," if warranted 
to exterminate. 

Minot. Enkagemend-shdoggins, lofe-carders, invands' gonween- 
ienzies 

Grace. { To Bertha.) The Jew has no laborer's hands ! Though 
his prononce stock, I'd care, if unobserved, to roam. 

Bertha. I fear we'll grow inelegant. {Exeunt Grace and Bertha.) 

Minot. Every arrow has taken fire ! Another day would buy me 
out. Moral : To be successful in business, never be too proper, 
nor scrupulous ! What passion sight of her did stir ! But, till to- 
morrow, hold, my heart, to bear me stoutly, then. {Exit.) 

Enter Major and Harry Paddleford. 

Major. 'Tis said the best men in the County lent their aid, and 
all went on unmasked, in silence and in order. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS, 45 



Enter Stanhope. 

I'm just impressing upon Paddleford, tiie lawlessness and impiety 
of lynchings ! 

Stanhope. Sit we, gentlemen. Our humble homes amid the 
South lie widely separate, and belted round by negro multitudes. 
The white man plies his daily toil some distance from his dwelling. 
Within walls that should be their castle, the wife and daughter not 
always rest secure. But duties draw them thence, now here, near- 
by, now there, remote. To well patrol these homes and guard 
their neighboring highways — at public outlay — were, of course, im- 
possible. Industry would be paralized, in shop and field, to raise 
constabularies. 

Harry. Any allegiance without protection ? Why is Govern- 
ment created ? 

Stanhope. That when the law yields to our persons no protec- 
tion, we may ourselves defend them, is both of human nature and 
of law itself, the prime deliverance. And of ourselves, herein, our 
wives and daughters are accounted part. 

Major. Yes ! And enforced disclosures from the victim wrung 
at public trial, are but fresh brutalities. 

Harry. Juries would always convict. Lynching obviates for- 
malities. 

Stanhope. The Magna Charta for such monsters, is but identifi- 
cation, let sentimental moralist, in distant home, unvisited by fear, 
vent what remonstrances he may. 

Major. Rather, let him, with tongue of flame blister the deed we 
punish. If Pilgrim blood, within the rural beauty of New England, 
were daily ruffianed in the clasp of villiany, dire as if hot emerged 
from hell, how long would the rifles of her Minute Men, rest supine 
o'er the lintel, or the sword of Bunker Hill sleep in its scabbard ? 

Stanhope. The Roman, in defense of womanhood, did twice with 
arms recast his government; the royal line did blot and write the 
name of consul ; broke the fasces of the lictor, the haughty Ten 
smote down; and, from the Sacred Mount, did Tribunes of the Peo- 
ple set, in warder of chaste liberty and unpolluted hearth. 

Harry. Let's drown our degradation ! Come ! A julep! (E.v- 
eimt. ) 



46 WHITE SULPHUR springs. 



Enter Dr. Paddle fur d and Bradford. 

Bradford. Our people are opposed to lynching, but they abhor 
the crime for which you inflict it. It were uncandid to assert, that 
we, in your predicament, would, at all times, wait upon conclusions 
of the law. The conduct of communities is much influenced by 
their circumstances. No more distressing problem has ever vexed 
society, than that which now confronts you. One who has freely 
bled for his country, in three wars, may be expected to be exempt 
from fear, and to speak without reserve. 

Dr. P. Accept, Sir, my salutation to valor, disabled, at seventy- 
two, on the field of Antietaoi ! — Lynching? — Our minds are made 
up, Sir. Either a short shrift, or extermination. And what right 
has the Government to meddle with the business ? 

Bradford. There exists no power in the United States to pre- 
vent, or to punish, lynchings committed within a State, in defiance 
of the authority thereof, solely by lawless and frenzied individuals. 

Dr. P. Certainly not ! Of course, not ! That's what Mr. Stan- 
hope asserted. 

Bradford. This constitutional principle stands absolutely beyond 
intelligent dispute, and should be universally understood and ac- 
cepted. We, of the north, may persuade and even inveigh against 
lynching, as we did against slavery 

Dr. P. Slavery? If there's while man in the South not glad the 
thing is ended, he never broke bread with me ! 

Bradford. The sentiment you declare, is confirmed by my ob- 
servation. {Exeunt.) 



Scene III. Servants' Dining Room. 

Waiters holding meeting. 

ist. Waiter, {Reuben fones.) Mis' Char! I motions we a.in't guyne 
wait no more ! White man 'joy hi'self huggin', kissin', dancin', 
drinkin' en drivin'. Waiter git only twenty dollars fer 'tendin' 'im. 
What Mars' Line' 'mancipate us fer ? 

Voices. It are shameful ! We don't b'ar it ! 



WHITE STILPIIUII SPRINGS. 47 

jst. Waiter. Down at " Ole Sweet " en de " Warm," de eater bin 
genimunly raise up. Quarter er day ain't nothin' from Mm. Dis- 
here place, de more soup en de betterer de chick in you broughts 
'em, de leasen you gits. {Cheers.) 

Chairman. De Cheer harks de moter ! Do he see hi' sponser ? 

2d. Waiter. Here he stan', Mis' Char ! Look at 'im good ! {Ap- 
plause.) Sah ! we is downtreaded— as high as de sky. What de 
Constertushun tell us ? Whar he mended at ? He too cracked en 
rickedy to hole er ripe watermillion ! Twenty dollars, in de Pary- 
dise of de mount'ins ! En when we's through with money, en 
dresses, ter all dem maids 'bout de cottages, en de hotel, what's 
lef ter 'sport our suff' rin fam'lies ? Less carry dishere move, till 
we draps. {Cheers.) 

3d. Waiter. Mis' Char! I ol'er 'n any of yer — bin' comin' here 
'fore some er yer born — Times done change ! White people ain't 
got de money dey was brought up on! But, poor as dem is, der 
ain't no nigger here don't pick up ten dollars er month ermong 'em. 
En ef you th'ows 'way what you gits, on wifes what ain't yourn, 
how you 'spec's 'sport fam'lies ? De Comman'mint better fer yer 
den de Constertushun ! We is free ! En bless de Lord ! But der 
ain't no foolishness 'bout freedom, no more'n 'bout pickin' colt'n, 
er cuttin' wheat. I ain't j'ine you. {Exit, amid murmurs of dis- 
approval.) 

Chairman. It are motioned en spokemated, de waiters don't wait. 

Voices. {Numerous.) Yes ! Aye ! Never ! 

Voices. {A few.) No ! 

Chairman. De fablesome done carry, en de meetin' am riz. 

4fh. Waiter. {Amid confusion.) Mis' Char! We ain't 'p'int no 
Cummitty ter de Manager ! 

Chairman. Den, de 'Sembly are re-sot ! 

§th. Waiter. Mis' Char ! I nomernates Rube Jones ! 

I St. Waiter, {Ruben f ones.) Mis' Char ! We ain't give de Mana- 
ger no notice ! What he do, wid all dis comp'ny on hi' hands ? 
Some nigger git hi' head broke ! Let de Char 'liver our 'solves ! 

Chairman. {Doubtfully.) Will de meetin 'scort de Cheer, en 
promise stan' by 'im ? 

3rd. Waiter, {Re-entering >) Ef you all hab any sense lef,' you gits 
home quick as you kin. En you better not put on no airs, after- 
ward ! Dey done lynch Black Bailey, at Lewisburg, er ready ! 



48 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

ist. Waiter. I thought sump'n gwyne happen, when they say Miss 
Jea come 'quirin' roun' ! {Chairman leaves seat. Meeting dispers- 
ing, precipitately.) 

2nd. Waiter. {Above uproar.) I calls on all ter 'member, 'twan't 
me what git up dis meetin,' en I never 'proved sich measly, low- 
down, 'solves, nohow ! {Exeujif.) 



Scene IV. Paradise Row, in front of. 

Enter Major and Stanhope. 

Major. The Jew's the hero of the hour, and so to be deserves. 

Stanhope. What of the accident chanced it, yourself did witness, 
Sir? 

Major. Only what happened when from Kanawha Turnpike 
turned the team into the road which fronts Virginia Row, and when, 
again, it neared the Upper Music Stand. Between those points, 
the Row obscured my view, though what occurred seems plain. 

StanJiope. The Eastern freight, 'tis said, alarmed the horses, at 
the turn. 

Major. 'Tis, doubtless, true. The whistle I myself did hear, 

Stanhope. And near the Stand, the Jew did check their course ? 

Major. Simpson had wholly lost control, and in mad flight his 
team, rounding the curve, had, in an instant, dashed into the Stand, 
when, quick as bolt from sky, outshot the Jew, and, weighting to 
the near horse, on the bit, in arc swift hurled the span, and to earth 
as deftly flung them, as ever wrestler in Palaestra thumped his foe. 
I had been sworn that east of Texas, no man save Armistead Minot 
had this trick. 

Stanhope. Let Christian, hence, ne'er scoff at Hebrew ! How 
further managed he, I pray ? 

Major. Alone, ere panting aid arrived, down held he, as in lion 
grip, his prey, till Simpson and his wife, unharmed, alighted, then 
loosed his hold, when up the team arose, and, rushing on, spokes, 
fellies, dashboard, pole and all, in ruin strewed. 

Stanhope. The issue trod near miracle, indeed. Not much below 
the Stand, Miss Joinville, it is said, did saunter, unattended. 

Major. And I am told, the Jew, ere that his deed was noised, 
squared his account, as guest, and, all unnoticed, disappeared. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 49 

Stanhope. This pins a further feather in his cap ! A humble, 
brave and modest man, that shrank from praise. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Lefroy and Bertha, nieetins[. 

Lefroy. Faint am I of breath, in hastening first to find you, next 
to express my joy. 

Bertha. Thanks ! thanks ! In truth, I drew no nearer peril, than 
enforced spectator, weak of nerve, might feel to stand. 

Lefroy. 'Tis pity that no gentleman was by, to lend his aid. 
Now, for this hostler's part, so simple, safe and void of knack, an 
unkempt, peddling Jew, is rated 'mongst the Gods ! 

Bertha. {AHde.) The tongue of envy ! {To Lefroy.) Not bet- 
ter knowing, it would seem, I had conceived his deed most valliant, 
cool and worthy praise. And to escape this last, they say, he van- 
ished suddenly. 

Lefroy. From me he disappeared with twice five dollars, value 
unreturned. With what from others, we must later learn. 

Bertha. {Aside.) O ! that my sex forbids me take this evil 
speaker by the throat ! {To Lefroy.) Engage me. Sir, when ne.xt 
you meet this Jew, that he shall instant render up such sum as now 
thou claimest. 

Lefroy. I pledge thee so, and more, that, if thou wilt, as he 
has beat me out of cash, recovering that, I'll beat him out of 
breath. 

Bertha. {Aside.) Now, art thou Julius — Caesar! Would I might 
view thee, then ! ( 7o Lefroy.) Such penalty, I fear, may scarce be 
laid by maidenhood ; but men there are, perchance, might deem it 
not unequal to your wrongs. Thanks for your interest in my safety. 
{Exit.) 

Lefroy. I think I have done the Jew ; and she wants me to 
get back my money ; though she won't conspire with me, of course, 
for his chastisement. I didn't charge him with stealing it, nor with 
obtaining it as a loan ; only with returning no value for it, — the 
truth, chemically pure. Yes ! and I am convinced he was hucks- 
tering, last night, with that Amazon, not in my interest, but at my 
expense, and for his own ignominious purposes. {Exit.) 



50 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Scene V. Lover's Leap. 

Enter Harry Paddleford. 

Harry. Strange infatuation ! She likes me. Warns me. Loves 
not. 'Tis gospel, all. This path I'll tread. Then? I care not 
where. {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford and Mrs. Stockton. 

Dr. P. Robbed of such presence by unfilial hand, let me, at 
length, attest my passion's flame. 

Mrs. S. I to your son have long stood friend, a term, with me, 
of note. In that same rank I'll list your name, but cannot love you, 
Doctor. 

Dr P. Still let me sue, till pity come, on gentle wing, to plead 
my cause with tears. 

Mrs. S. Good Sir, desist. The scene is out of place. Such 
wonder-laden warmth must be observed. 

Dr. P. Observed ? — Though nations listened to my vows, I'd 
on ! {Removes hat, and, withdrawing from rear pocket of coat, red 
bandanna, kneels thereon, the lilac silk Garters escaping, unper- 
ceived, to the ground,) O ! ravishing dream ! Transporting love- 
liness ! Fair empress of the skies 

Re-enter Harry Paddleford. 

Harry. {Aside.) Highly interesting ! Sorry to intrude. {Ad- 
vancing,) Howdy, father ! Mrs. Stockton, howdy ! 

Dr. P. {Rising, enraged, seizes hat and handkerchief.) Why, 

you unmannerly, spying, interfering Harry, we were just, you 

known Yes, that's it ! — That's what we were doing. The very 

thing ! Nothing else, my son. {Aside.) Hang the fellow ! He 
has sent me wool-gathering! I'm all at sea!— Harry, Harry, we 
are to have amateur theatricals — tableaux vivantes — in the ball- 
room, on Saturday. Practice, eh ? Practice, Harrj- ? Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha! 

Mrs. S. { To Harry C) Ah ! Mr. Paddleford, the Doctor, sure, 
has more than one vocation ! 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 51 

Harry. Father's most versatile. Inherits dramatic genius. Ren- 
ders fiction reaUty. {Aside to Mrs. S. and pointing, slyly, to es- 
caped garters. Scene: Ophelia's closet. Enter Hamlet ungarter^d.) 

Mrs. S. {Observing, Aside to Harry.) Enough ! Enough ! An- 
other glance were merriment convulsive ! {To Doctor.) We have, 
I fear, o'erstaid the while. How glide the moments, Doctor, when 
pleasure lends them wings ! 

Dr. P. {Aside.) Flowed gracious speech from such sweet portal 
ever! {To Mrs. S.) I best can answer, who now feel it most. 
{Exeufit.) 

Stanhope and Bertha, latter sketching. 

Bertha. I fear my pencil is unsteady ! 

Stanhope. {Aside.) 'Tis, then that Sulphur Water! Believe it 
not, Miss Joinville ! Sunlight and shadow live upon the page. 

Enter Lefroy and Grace, who, not perceiving others, sit nearby. 

Grace. You must know, Mr. Lefroy, I viewed you but as friend, 
e'en when you made me daily vows of love that was eternal. Now 
that your attentions to another are so public and unconstrained, 
persistency offends me. 

Staiihope. {Aside) More Sulphur Water! {To Bertha.) We 
had best retire, Miss Joinville ! 

Bertha. Ha ! ha ! No ! No ! — 'Tis Heaven not purpose sends 
us here. 

Stanhope. I do submit, but nothing mu'it I further learn. Some 
little distance, with your kindly leave. {Removes, while Bertha 
continues sketching .) 

Lefroy. {Aside.) My second impeachment! {To Grace.) Of 
what attentions would Miss Stockton hint ? 

Grace. Of none that raise you in her estimation You force me 
to be plain. I had not willingly supposed that, while sighing, with- 
out hope, to me, you were wooing Miss Joinville, not beyond en- 
couragement. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Yes ! she saw me ! I knew it ! If I can't get 
up some emotions, I'm gone, for a certainty. {To Grace.) Miss — 
Stockton — you know— that— for years — I— have— wor — shipped— at 
the— shrine — of— vour— love — li— ness. Con— se— crated — the — 



52 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

ground— 3'ou trod. Lived— only — in — your presence. That you 
did not — return my vir — virgin— bound— ing — fresh— afifection — 
never — chilled— its — constancy. I — never — loved — could — love — 
but — you. 

Grace. Have you not vowed this same, to Bertha Joinville? 

Lefroy. I can deny, I think — she ever so reported. Since here, 
'tis true, in open view and unconcealed, my lips once touched her 
hand. Think you 'twas amatory contact? Love stalks not thus 
notorious, and courtship true, disowns such public rites. You only 
I adore. 

Bertha. {Motioning to Stanhope, who advances.) Come, Mr. 
Stanhope, my sketch is finished, and we homeward turn. 

Stanhope. At once ! {Aside ) This thing may prove contagious ! 
'Tis all in this Sulphur Water ! ( To Bertha.) I lead the way. 
Miss Joinville, your portfolio, pray. {Stanhope and Bertha proceed 
toward Lefroy and Grace.) 

Grace. {To Lefroy >j That hand you never asked? Were still 
familiar with it ? And now 

Bertha. { To Lefrov and Grace, who rise.) And are you not re- 
turning too ? In truth, of such a bower one scarce can take a will- 
ing leave. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Their appearance is providential ! I couldn't 
have parried much longer ! ( To Bertha.) If thus it please Miss 
Stockton. 

Grace. {To Bertha.) 'Twere best, I think. Let us not linger 
till we turn to laurels. {Exeunt.) 



Scene VI. Colonade Roiv. 

Enter Bertha, with Portfolio, and Major Harding, meeting. 

Major. In happy hour, Miss Joinville ! The artist and her art. 

Bertha. O ! my portfolio ! The light serves not to scan it now ! 
Pray, take it with you ! 

Major, Thanks add to thanks ! I will restore it, copied in my 
thoughts. 

Bertha. Where have you wandered, roamed or flown, to have es- 
caped us thus ? 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 53 

Major. Just from a drive to "Beauregard," with General Mal- 
colm. The air was sweet. Slight vestige of the storm. 

Bertha. His daughter, Maud, and that young Acton here, are 
sure engaged, 'tis said. 

Major. The undertow, Miss Joinville, I mark, is frightful, on 
this strand. 

Bertha. Ha ! Ha ! Life-lines abound ! But till the ball, adieu ! 
{^Exeunt, severally.') 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P My own offspring is still my evil genius ! Sons, daught- 
ers, yes ! neices, nephews and cousins, too, they blast existence ! 
Reward you, invariably, with ingratitude, and with cruelty, as far 
as lies in their ingenious power. Had I been consulted upon the 
subject, I should have declined, courteously, but firmly, yes ! un- 
alterably, to be born at all. I have certainly derived no advantage 
from the gift of existence. No ! none whatever ! But to require 
me to step into a field of being, populous, swarming, overrun with 
relations, was the acme of parental tyranny and injustice. My 
youthful mind was, of course, prejudiced and corrupted in favor of 
the family circle, when I was compelled to grow up within it- Yes ! 
If it had'nt been for such my early and demoralizing surroundings, 
that unthankful boy had remained in the same state of nothingness 
in this world, to which he'll be consumed in the next. Why did'nt 
he remain with his pally ■ vous and kesker — sais ? Before his ap- 
pearance, all was tranquil, delightful, inspiring. And now the devil 
is turned up Tack ! {Exit.) 

Enter Lefroy. 

Lefroy. Miss Stockton something worse suspects. I wonder 
what she's heard. I must be more on my guard. Considerably ! 
These Southerners are not to be trusted. Not a moment. They 
stand like armed tulelaries, over the state of womanhood Yes ! 
Keep with flaming swords, the Eden she inhabits. Why, they'll 
take up for a female, when they don't know her ! Well, my Aunt 
is wife to a cotton-broker in Charleston. But, I'm glad to say, I'm 
foreign born, unnaturalized, and without domicile here. — I have no 
sympathy with their fiery, barbarous and death-dealing practices ! 



54 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

I dwell in a higher society — breathe a more refined and refining 
atmosphere. — I think I'd better stick to Miss Joinville. — I made up 
my mind to do so, when I reached here. Yes ! firmly. But un- 
toward circumstances crossed my purposes. I'll resolve, anew. 
It's certainly disappointing, that I can't have both ! It's nothing 
more than my due. But I'm determined otherwise. Yes ! the sit- 
uation requires it. {EjcU.) 



Scene VII. Hotel Parlor. 

Eriter Mrs. Stockton and Grace. 

Grace. The parlor is our own ! The smile that won — the well- 
bred jest — the laugh that echoed back itself — the hum of honey- 
laden speech is fled. Here let us sip the quiet. 

ATrs. S. Dispel it, rather ! — Feed me, dear Grace, something of 
sweetness from thy fount of song. Our summer finds the lyre un- 
touched, unstrung. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Grace. {Approaching Piano , to Stanhope^ Mamma, Sir ! makes 
me vocal. What like you, Mr. Stanhope, jocund, or grave ? sad, or 
gay ? L' Allegro, Penseroso ? 

Stanhope. {Bowing.) Refrains too joyous sweep our hearts al- 
ready. {Aside.) 'Tis all in this Sulphur Water ! — Streak not with 
fire, the stubble that we tread. Warble, I beg, some neutralizing 
strain, some sober, serious note to temper rapture, soften liveliness. 

Grace. This draught of melancholy then be thine: 

The fairest dream that Hope could start, 
With thee is fondly flown. 
And hush'd the music of that heart 
Which beat but with thine own. 

I might not guess, as year by year 
I watch'd thy rip'ning bloom, 
My bosom twin'd each tendril dear, 
An ivy o'er the tomb. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 55 

Where spread the fragrant chaplet rare, 
The cypress' shade hath stole, 
And naught, alas ! but chill despair, 
Keeps vigil in my soul. 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! {To Stanhope.') No more ! This taste of sadness 
must suffice us, now. When I'm more sorrowful, I further may 
oblige {Bowing) you both. 

Mrs. S. This "fee-grief" strain our spirits hangs in mourning. 
'Twould cool, methinks, the step of Faunus, break Bacchus' glass 
and stop the reeds of Pan. 

Stanhope. It speaks in mournful numbers. Such as from breast 
so joyous, glad and gay, I never thought might flow. {Aside.') It 
is this Sulphur Water, reneged upon itself! {To Ladies.) Alone 
I'll list them soothing still the ear. My thanks, dear lady, with 
them, {Bowing to both,) my adieu. {Exit.) 

Mrs. S. Go we to the Spring. Ha ! Ha ! Its sparkling glass 
may stir the pulse of cheerfulness. 

Grace. Ha ! Ha ! I never was less solemn. What note I loose, 
in gift to air, the thought floats ever with it. 

■Mrs. S. Yet stay ! A faint remembrance. That dirge ! Sure, 
not your Reverend Tucker's loving, last lament ? 

Grace. E'en so ! But, since those salad days, in rhyme and rea- 
son, he has better wrought. And, doubly profited, is now Bishop 
lawned. 

Mrs. S. My thoughtless Grace ! To learn so weak a ditty, and 
yet refuse so good a man ! {Exetmt.) 

Scene VIII. White Sulphur Spring. 

Enter DIrs. Stockton and Grace, tnetby Harry Paddle ford and Major. 

Major. Howdy ! yes ! twice ! ( To RFrs. S.) Rehearsal ended ? 
{Helps ladies to luater.) 

Mrs. S. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Quite over ! Grace, mind us not, my 
dear. 

Grace. Well, then, Mamma, with such fair leave, we'll on ! 

Major. Yes, fairy, and mark sweet violet, pansy, evening prim- 
rose spring, where'er thy step shall touch. {Exeunt Major and 
Grace.) 



56 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Mrs. S. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! 'Twas sin, to mar entreaty so impas- 
sioned, emotion so dramatic ! The Doctor treads a star. 

Harry. He'll vary character. The sock for you. The buskin 
me. {^Drinking, bows.) 

Mrs. S. Nay, nay ! No tragedy. Melponene must sheathe the 
Doctor's sword. You are my victim yet. Thy wounds must come 
from me. 

Harry. A victim, yes ! But, beautiful, not yours. I immolate 
myself. — And wilfully 

Mrs. S. Ah ! Harry, say not so. I should restore you to your 
former self. Bring back the rose to pallid cheek. Plant sparkle in 
those wearied eyes,. Smoothe those deep furrows from the brow 
of care. And with glad music of triumphal march, lead thy scarred 
heart, like laurel'd conqueror, to feast with mine. 

Harry. Should? Yes! But cannot. Here nature rules. Duty 
her helot only. 

Mrs. S. To strive were vain. Yet, Harry, dared I love you but 
one day, we'd alter sadness and exchange our fate. You, with swift 
sail, would fan the distant wave. And I, poor Carthage queen, 
should light the funeral pyre. 

Harry. It is most true ! Yet, you to suffer ? No ! No ! To you 
I'm tenderness ! Fondness self-astounding. Elsewhere, pure heart- 
lessness. You suffer ? And by me ? Ah ! no ! Live painlessly, 
my queen. Die as the swan. 

Mrs. S. Ah ! Harry, were you ever reasonable ! To judgment 
open, and to fate submissive ! — But let us, pray, proceed. The tor- 
toise and the hare shall meet, when Grace and I encounter. {Ex- 
euni.) 



Scene IX. Lawn, opposite Florida Row. 

Major and Grace, seated. 

Major. Gray evening climbs the mountains, but halts as loth to 
break yon silver fringe that hangs upon their summit. 
Grace. Methinks the pilgrimage but sad. 
Major. Soft twilight, ever prized, but loved not until now. 
Grace. Some fancy strange beguiles, 'tis sure, your choice. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 57 

Major. The hour itself is holy. Sweet silence reigns. And na- 
ture bends in prayer, ere yet the tapers of the sky do light her sober 
couch. 

Grace. Ha ! Ha ! You have become a moralist. I scarce had 
thought 

Major. {Interrupting.) 'Tis holier, now. My heart, in pious 
awe, kneels in communion, love, with yours. 

Grace. It then, Sir ! well may rise ! We worship not together. 

Major. You like not dark, nor shade ? Know then, that Love, 
though blind itself, reflects all hues — takes tincture from the sea, the 
air, the sky — the russet morn as well as evening gray. 

Grace. And changes with them all ! Man and chamelion, save 
in food, are brothers, I am sure. 

Major. Ah ! no ! The tints I'd own, are fixed with pigment 
dipped in Heaven — gold, ruby, rose and pearl — and colors nature 
from her glad aerial bow distils, to paint thee loveliest, first, un- 
copied in her art. 

Grace. Sir ! you forget. Urge not forbearance to resent the just 
offense it feels. 

Major. Ah ! none could tempt you break your being's law ! To 
plant a thorn where mildness grew, would turn it to my bosom. 

Grace. You bear no yoke, I think, in much provoking others. 

Major. My burden is from loving. {Pressing heart.) Here hope 
and doubt cross and recross their lines, till joy starve in the lattice. 

Grace. The lines of hope you sure misread. 

Major. Then teach me, sweet, to know them. My patience, love, 
obedience, try. Bid me bring back the golden apples of the West, 
the Colchian fleece, the polar beam that props the frozen North. 
I'll lay them at your feet to sigh, how slight, how brief, the errand. 

Grace. To such obedience I can lay no claim. Nor shall I chal- 
lenge service. 

Major. Take me, then, love, and own all claim and service. 

Grace. You'd voyage soon, I'm sure. 

Major. No ! No ! The Island of the Blest were reached. Its 
spotless sky and breath of May should be forever mine. 

Grace. End, Sir ! I beg, this o'erwrought strain ! Gather some 
store, if slight, of simpler, more congenial, thought, ere that we 
meet again, {Exit.) 

Major. Fond love, till then! {Exit.) 



58 WHITE SULPHITE SPRINGS. 

Scene X. Hotel Porch— Mtisic heard. 

Enter Lefroy and Bertha. 

Lefroy. And not one waltz, Miss Joinville ? 

Bertha. What voluptious music ! What queenly forms ! What 
exquisite toilettes ! How inspiring the whole ! 

Lefroy. Yes ! Bertha, and over all Love sheds its genial warmth. 
Can you feel in such presence no answering throb for me ? My heart 
is at your feet. O ! make it glad, forever ! 

Bertha. Constancy— Mr. — Lefroy — has strong claims to reward. 
You should have earlier asked. How unhappy our situation ! My 
card, behold, contains no blank. You would not have me an en- 
gagement break, and on us both let loose, I know not what, resent- 
ment ? — Hark ! The next number is begun. Let us haste ! {Exit.) 

Enter Stanhope and Bradford. 

Stanhope. Sir, I think so ! It has been a brilliant rout. 

Bradford. Would I might warm, as once I could, to charms of 
beauty, youth, wit, grace, and strains of melody, like these ! Age 
brings no blessings, Sir. like those it takes away. And so, my duty 
to the occasion paid, to you and it, I 11 say good night ! {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Not dancing, Mr. Stanhope ? You wrong yourself, — 
you wrong the smiles that wait to welcome you. 

Stanhope. Good Sir and friend, I own no fondness for such pas- 
time. I never drink the water ! I have been chatting here and 
there with friends who watch the revelry. 

Dr. P. Nothing have I observed of Mrs Stockton. She scarce 
so early has retired. 

Stanhope. An hour since, she formed with Mrs. Hamilton and 
others, a group as classic as the ball-room matched. You'll be 
about. I shall report her if I further find. {Exit.) 

Dr. P. No ! No ! She has not left for the evening. She would 
remain while her daughter was on the floor. Yet nowhere can I 
find her. I've scanned the ball-room. The parlor and this porch 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 69 

I've searched in vain. And Harry ! that Harry ! I wonder where 
he is ! Egad ! — Myself and sagacity, tried companion of my days, 
seem no longer on terms. Why ! it should iiave occurred to me at 
once ! Yes ! Yes ! They are this moment seated on her cottage 
balcony, filling the atmosphere, lading the night, with fond and 
sentimental exchanges. Yes ! rejoicing over my discomfiture, as I 
roam the earth in quest of their secret shelter. O ! I'll after you ! 
I'll interrupt the stolen sweets ! — I'll go in a roundabout way. Hold 
my breath, to make no noise. And dart upon them unawares. 
That Harry is the coolest, most impudent and ungrateful varlet 
alive ! {Exit.) 



Scene XI. iMrs. Stockton's Cottage — Porcli. 

Harry Paddleford atid jl/rs. Stockton, seated. 

Harry. Yes ! were you absent ! 'Tis different, thus. The dance 
would weary. You inspire. My soul grows rythmic. Love lends 
the strain. Pure coldness, join. 

Mrs. S. True, but for me, how many fairy steps tonight would 
glide with thine ! 'Tis pity, Harry ! Cea^^e to exalt me, thus. Had 
I a heart, with right of disposition, 'twere yours, I vow, as free as 
grace to man. 

Harry. Come ! Play the voyager ! That heart explore. Brave 
its snow. Its ices penetrate. Find its unfrozen ocean. Such it 
should have. 

Mrs. S. Alas ! there's none. Perpetual frost reigns 'neath its 
arctic sky. {Aside.) Some warning accent seems to fall upon mine 
ear! ^To Harry.) You must remain content. 

Harry. Content with No ? Are lovers thus ? In Heaven, per- 
haps ! Not here below. 

Mrs. S. Cheer up ! nor make me sadder than thyself. We must 
to Grace ! There rein the moments here so quickly sped. 

Harry. Sweet spot ! good night. {Exeunt, togetJier.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. {Peering, cautiously ) I see nothing of them. Perhaps, 
they see me. {Coughs.) Hem !— Hem !— I say !— No answer? Sure- 



60 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

ly, they're not within ! There's no light visible. I'll knock, any- 
how ! {Knocks.) No answer yet ? — Where the devil are they ? That 
Harry ought to be hung, drawn and quartered, alive. He imbibed 
none of his propensities from me. Had he but copied my discreet, 
amiable and retiring example, he were, today, the salt of earth. 
He can't have persuaded that confiding, innocent, unsophisticated, 
creature to walk down to the Spring, or to sit under the trees, at 
this midnight hour ! No ! No ! Artless and unsuspecting as she is, 
she would not have consented. 'Twould scandalize the place ! I'll 
move once more towards the din of merriment. {Exit.) 



Scene XII. Hotel Porch — '' Dark Corner'' — Music 

heard. 

Enter Major and Grace, hurriedly. 

Major. Darling, share this seat ! What think you of me as a 
partner, now ? 

Grace. To say you dance well, does you justice. 

Major. I speak not of waltzing, precious ! As partner for life, 
I mean. 

Grace. I could think of you, thus, only to reject you. — We do 
not suit each other. 

Major. Speak for thyself alone. The antipathies I feel, I can 
with ease avow. And if I suit not you, you still suit me. Hut side 
by side we grow. 

Grace. I know not what you would convey by this. 

Major. Excitement, pleasure, are your fountain, current, life. 
It is not thus ? 

Grace. Too much, I must confess. 

Major. Before I met you, such, in part, were mine. Thou hast 
become my only life. Darling, marry me ! I wish you as my help- 
mate. And I must have you. {Encircling her form.) 

Grace. {Disengaging herself.) Major Harding 1 I must rebuke 
your insolence. To conduct thus unmannerly, I've yet to grow 
accustomed. 

Major. Well, I repress my haste for wedlock, and, at present^ 
beg you for sweetheart, only. Will you love me, darling ? 

Grace. You do not please me. Sir ; nor ever will ! 



WHITE RULPnUR SPRIN(iS. 61 

]\[ajor. Soft you, my love ! Are you so sure of that ? 

Grace. I like, I own, your dancing. I know of nothing else — 
panicularly. {Listening.) The last waltz, and 'tis ours. 

Major. I had as soon, almost, remain. {Snatching a kiss.) But 
since you like me in the dance, there will I prove your fondness. 
{Exeunt, rapidly.) 

Enter Stanliope and Doctor Paddleford. 

Stajihope. Ah ! Doctor Paddleford ! You found, of course, our 
handsome friend ! 

Dr. P. Not yet — I have been absent. Yes ! Away. — Somewhat ! 

Statthope. It is but now, I saw her promenading, on the north 
side of the Porch, Sir. 

Dr. P. Thanks ! Thanks ! I— I— My sight is not so good ! I'll 
step into the swim. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Harry Paddleford and Mrs. Stockton. 

Harry. The evening closes ! Father now raves. Here will he 
stumble.— And find but you ! To Miss Joinville, I ! {Exit.) 

Mrs. S. I do dare venture he has cruised creation ! Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha ! Sire and son my warring satelites ! Were now 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Ever in search of you, dear Madam ! Visiting vacuity. 
E.xploring emptiness. While precious hours — but, father to the 
thought, — where is that Harry ? 

Mrs. S. He left me for a mark more shining. He now attends 
the beautiful Miss Joinville. 

Dr. P. {Aside.) I trust he'll never leave her ! Divine perfec- 
tion, unpaired excellence, let me invoke you to recall my fate. 
Unspeak the sentence that thus wrecks the bark, so lately ventured 
upon passion's deep. 

Mrs. S. I much respect you. Doctor. And were I free to 
choose — I shall not own what I might say to honor so beguiling. 

Dr. P. Free, Madam? Who shall control your will? If that 
unholy, smickering boy has dared 

Mrs. S. Good Doctor, No ! You do him wrong. It is not that. 



62 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Dr. P. He shall pack, forthwith, to Calcutta, and there, within 
a twelve month, marry a native, or I'll lock my purse to him while 
I live, and leave him a fly-blister when I die. 

M7's. S. I see you will not cure one error ! Mend, I pray, the 
other. I cannot encourage you. 

Dr. P. You must, rare loveliness ! I seek your hand ! Remain 
no longer widowed ! 

Mrs. S. {Affecting surprise.) What is't you speak ? Reflect ! 
My husband lives — as truly as myself or you ! 

Dr. P. {Enraged.) Notawidow! Your husband alive ! Then, 
I'll recover damages against him ! Not a widow ! Why ? — why ? 
yes ! why in — lend me an imprecation — Madam ! — why didn't you 
say so, in the beginning ? Escaped your memory ! Overlooked 
the circumstance ! Didn't think to think about it ! Remembered to 
forget it ! Oh ! no ! You were, of course, 

3frs. S. Might I not justly judge he knew my state, who cared 
not once to ask it ? 

Dr. P. Oh ! I'm the serpent, am I ? Consciously, with fell de- 
sign, with purpose black as sin ! I'd entice you to felony ! Make 
you a bigamist ! And be myself twin husband to a wife of halves ! 
Oh ! Oh ! {Exit.) 

Mrs. S. This robs all comedy of humor ! And yet, I do repent 
me ! I should not thus have acted ! {Exit.) 

Enter Harry Paddleford and Bertha. 

Bertha. All is over ! Thanks ! Mr. Paddleford ! This wrap ? 

Harry. Yes, after dancing — A grand affair — You enjoyed it ? 

Bertha. How much I have not words to tell ! I'm sorry you 
were writ deserter. How happened it ? 

Harry. Enough without me — I'm never missed — Often, not 
wanted. 

Bertha. You're much too modest. You have many friends. 
{Pausing.) Some grow in soil untill'd. 

Harry. You flatter me. But the Stocktons' retire. Do not re- 
main. The air is chill. 'Tis very damp. 

Bertha. Thanks, for such prudence ! I obey. {Exeurit.) 



WHITE ST^LPIIUR SPRINGS. 63 



Enter Stanhope. 

Stafthope. Yes, I must attend that wassail They expect me, 
and, rashly, I have partly pledged my word.— What a crush it has 
been ! Two hundred couples in motion. The old maids and wall- 
flowers as decolletees as the rest ! Manoeuvering mothers lying in 
wait for partners to their daughters, like painted savages in the 
cane-brake. — 'Tis all in this Sulphur Water! — I had not intended to 
enter the ball-room, at all ! Scarce was I past the parlor, when, lo ! 
at the foot of the stairs, stood Mrs. Finecut, resolution on her lips, 
defiance in her eye. Without salutation, without ceremony, in a 
moment,— a twinkling, before I could catch my breath, I wasdrag'd, 
hurl'd, shot, fired, into assembled elegance, with ungloved hands, 
my indignant bandanna flying a signal of distress from the after 
pocket of my dress coat ! I hardly know how I liberty regained. 
But, 'tis all in this Sulphur Water ! 'Tis Circe's potion ! Not that 
dark root, with whitened bloom, which Hermes to Odusseus gave, 
could disinfect the draught ! {Exit.) 



Scene XIII. Mrs. St.>cktoti's Cottage — Apartment 

of Grace. 

To Grace., en deshabille, enter Bertha, en deshabille, with Shawl 
throw?i round her. 

Grace. Dear, my Bertha, I have awaited you. 

Bertha. I feared to dare that passage — that bridge of Lodi — until 
now. {Removes shawl and examines flowers on stand.) How 
lovely ! Yet 'tis late. 

Grace. To gain repose first must we sink our spirits to its level ! 
Dear, sit we here. ( They sit on bed.) 

Bertha. Sure, an adventurous evening ! Ten limes at least I've 
outright been addressed ! 

Grace. And I as many ! Men seem moonstruck ! And not a 
few, barbaric ! 

Bertha. And that cool Lefroy ! Methinks 

Grace. Your own true love, and drop of constancy in all this 
giddy sea ! 



64 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Bertha. You marked, I saw, he kissed my hand. I overheard 
you both at Lover's Leap ! All then he swore to you, he had al- 
ready vowed to me. It has been palpable you like him not. I have 
encouraged but to punish him ! 

Grace. Poor purblind I ! Bertha! forgive me! I'll never thus 
offend fair sense again. 

Bertha. Ha ! Ha ! You overpraise the actress. 

Grace. His assurance should be knighted ! The friendship of 
neither of us would suffice. He must hold both our hearts, in prop- 
erty. Know you he has discovered that we mark his play ? 

Bertha. Of that I'm sure. I pray we find good means further 
to humble him. 

Grace. But is there no one here you might affect ? 

Bertha. Well, of men assembled here, I like most Mr. Paddle- 
ford. Why, I know not — except that I have seen him less. 

Grace. O ! ill-star'd maid ! He dies each moment for mamma. 

Bertha. And she 

Grace. Bids him remain her plaything, friend, but know she has 
no heart. 

Bertha. And he 

Grace. Vows, when she has, he'll love no more. They both 
speak strictly true. 

Bertha. 'Tis passing strange ! Yet that, by rumor, he possessed 
no heart, I fancied was attractive. 

Grace. If he grow. Bertha, to your liking, mamma '11 transplant 
him, and retain the parent trunk. 

Bertha. The Doctor ? Oh ! naughty, grasping, sly mamma ! 
He thinks her, then, a widow. 

Grace. And has, on bended knee, addressed her. 

Bertha. Ha ! Ha ! When she accepts the sire, — let us not jest, 
as if unminding what alone could bring to pass that when ! But, 
now, your preference. 

Grace. O ! it's legions ! — depending on my humor. Yet, I 
rather think, 'tis Major Harding. He dances best, is handsome, — 
and a wretch. The most respectfully disrespectful — the most 
politely impolite — the most decorously indecorous of men. 

Bertha. Shows he, thus ? With such propriety in license — or 
license in propriety — I'd not have taxed him. 



WHITE SULPIITTR SPRINGS. 65 

Grace. And he's as smart as awful. H'e reads you while your 
thoughts are forming ! And such a flirt ! Particulars become em- 
barrassing ! 

Bertha. Ah ! Grace, our choice, as yet, is of the fare they serve 
us. When we shall market for ourselves 

From adjoinifig Room, enter 3frs. Stockton, en deshabille. 

Mrs. S. Come, dears ! Your confidences are exchanged, o'er- 
fought the evening field. Good night, fair Bertha Grace, good 
night ! And list to know she reach safe harbor ! {Exeunt omnes.) 



Scene XIV. Broadzvay Btiilding, No. 310: 

Stanhope, asleep. Etiter 3fajor, slightly tipsy, bearing candle. 

Major. {Placing candle on dresser.) Must have been last dance, 
makes my head swim so. She's a daisy ! There was some terra- 
pin— salad— I don't know ! And that immense ace spot ! It's all 
a dream. {Withdrawing from trouser-pockei, large roll of money.) 
Here's hundreds ! Can't count, now, — count tomorrow. {Throws 
roll oji dresser.) Too tired ! Wonder where — I — got it ! Hope, 
made honestly. ^Removing coat, collar and necktie, looks in glass.) 
How much good looks become a man! {Moving forward.) Can 
walk straight enough! Pronounce '' Shtar Shpang' Ban','' all 
right. Which of these beds is mine ? {Reaches and Addresses 
Stanhope.) How are you ? old L. M. J.— M. J L. ? 

Stanhope. {Awakeni?ig, starts up in bed dazed, and attired in 
night cap and night gown, Aside.) I've been dreaming of robbery 
and assassination. But this is no vision. Would I were weaponed ! 

Major. I say, old consonants, old J. M. L.— why can't you be 
social and affable — like I am ? 

Stanhope. {Springing frotn bed, and advancing in hostile atti- 
tudes) Hold ! you murderous and ungallowsed thiet 

Major. {Deprecathigly.) Look here, old petticoats— old night- 
gown—What's got into vou, anyway ? 

Stanhope. Until T fit you for an inquest. {Each, awkzvardly roll- 
ing his fists round, advances upon the other.) 



66 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 



Enter Jim. 

Jim. {Hastily interposing between combatants.) Stan' off, boss ! 
Clar de groun,' boss !— Fer de Lawd's sake ! Nothin' ain't wrong, 
'ceptin' yerselfs. (To Stanhope.) Dishere gemmun, {htdicating 
Major,) ain't stay here las' night, an' he jus' come from supper on 
de Hill. De buttermilk bin churn' too strong fer 'im. He done 
took you fer Mass' 'Froy, what move outen here when you comes 
in. {To Major.) Dishere gemmun, {Indicating Stanhope^ bin 
nausead by de dew, an' mighty poorly when he go ter bed Reck'n 
he sleep res'less an' oneasy, Major, an' come sort er 'fused an' 
dazed, when you wakes 'im. Rut iVliss' Stanup, boss, one our oldes' 
an' mos' 'spected pat'ons. Now, you two git ter res' ! De day 
done broke ! {Exit.) 

Major. {Aside.) Mr. Stanhope ! I'm sobered by the name. 
( To Stanhope.) I do confess, with shame, this servant has too well 
explained my conduct and its causes. Let us remember them only 
while I entreat and receive your forgiveness 

Stanhope. {Aside.) Offered a somewhat diplomatic solution of 
my own, too ! {To Major.) I freely do absolve you. Sir ! and crave 
your pardon and your silence, in return. 'Twas all in this Sulphur 
Water ! All in the Water. {Curtain.) 

End of Act IIT. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. Virginia Row, Walk in front of. 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Her husband alive ? Yes, and, were he here, inclined 
to kicking, too! — But she's in the right. The fault was mine. 
Why didn't I inquire ? There's a tongue in my head. Yes ! and a 
lively organ it often is. She thought I knew as well as others. — I 
don't mind Harry ! He's dull of apprehension — always was. But 
the whole affair will be out, before dinner. Nothing, at this place, 



WHITE SULPIIini SPRINGS. 07 

remains secret That old maid, Miss Spindleshanks, heard a peal 
of thunder, and swallowed an orange seed. Gossip and exaggera- 
tion have assigned her a condition which, if possible at her age, 
would be fatal. Mrs. Muttonchop exhibits a small acuminated ele- 
vation of the cuticle, upon the thorax. Everybody is asking what 
in old scratch it can mean.— Now I can endure many things. — In fact, 
I believe, — yes, I'm quite certain — I have already suffered most 
things. But I can't, and I won't, stand ridicule ! No! I shall leave 
by the earliest opportunity. {Exit.) 

Enter Harry Paddle ford and Lefroy, vieetitio;. 

Harry. Well, Lefroy ! — Things are, how ? 

Lefrny. Mixed, tangled, twisted out of shape ! Never in such a 
box in my life, Paddleford ! No, never ! 

Harry. Bad ! Need my assistance ? 

Lefroy. Above all else. You are familiar with the world — cool — 
experienced — trained in resources. For two years, Paddleford, I 
have been most foolishly — yes, I'm afraid, dishonorably 

Harry. An amorous Janus ! A double-faced Valentine ! 

Lefroy. Yes ! — Addressing two girls at the same time. 

Harry. O! That all ? Nothing original. — Done daily. 

Lefroy. How could I dream they would ever meet ? They were 
so far apart, I felt confident, Paddleford 

Harry. But they did meet ? — They always do. 

Lefroy. Yes ! Here are they at this very place. One loves me 
wildly. The other, for her sake Heaven be thanked, does not. 

Harry. Softly ! Pure mistake ! Neither cares anything. 

Lefroy. Listen, Paddleford ! — You know nothing about it, no- 
thing whatever ! Now each has detected my relations with the 
other. Both are furious. I feel so uncomfortable and alarmed 

Harry. Detection always embarrassing. The offense is imagin- 
ary. 

Lefroy. I'm engaged to be married, you know, in December. — 
I don't say, it will certainly come off! Day before yesterday came 
a letter from my fiancee, but I lost it, Paddleford, lost it, opened, 
somewhere on the grounds. And last night, it turns up on my 
dresser, enclosed in a Stockton envelope. It was read, of course, 
and everything's discovered. 



68 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Harry. {Hotly.) Was read ? Perused by them ? Retract that, 
instantly ! Swallow ! or by 

Lefrov. On my knees, Paddleford ! Don't think me meaner 
than I am ! How unworthy my suspicion ! 

Harry. You never felt it ! — Nervous ebullition ! — The incident is 
closed. 

Lefroy. But neither of them would dance with me last ni.8:ht. 
And only this morning, coming from the bath, Paddleford, I over- 
heard their cottage maid say to old Burwell, my time was mighty 
near. What do you suppose she meant, Paddleford ? If one of 
their friends would only challenge and kill me before midday, I'd 
thank him forever. 

Harry. Where? — Perhaps he may! — Enraged, say you? Not 
Miss Joinville ! Miss Stockton, No ! 

Lefroy. Why Paddleford ! Paddleford ! You've ascertained 
everything ! Do, then, advise me, quickly. 

Harry. Yes! Before you began! Advice: Silence. — Leave 
things to me. We'll see what's best. 

Lefroy. {Em.br acing.) How can I forget — how express — my 
gratitude ! O ! Paddleford, you lift Kate's Mountain from my 
heart. {Exeunt.) 



Scene II. Prospect Hill, Grove in, back of Tansus Row. 
Grace and Bertha, seated. 

Grace. Heigh ! Ho ! 

Bertha. Grace you are but sad. Cheer up. Last niglit reacts 
upon us. Heigh ! Ho ! 

Grace. {Mounfully.) 1 know not, dear I am not joyous 

That I feel too well 

Bertha. Then will I trip the world to gather honey for thy rup. 
I fear you are in love. 

Grace. No, I am sure. That is, at l^ast, I hope not- Yet 

Bertha. Our thoughts are more than kin. You muse of one — 
and I the other. 

Grace. I thank thee for such aid. Yes ! I do like Major Hard- 
ing, above what I had thought. In love I've said, or hoped, I was 
not. Yet, (/V^.y.yz«^ //^ar/,) there's discomfort here ! Uneasiness — 



WHITE SULPIIUK SPRINGS. 69 

vague something — such as till now I never knew. Heigh ! Ho ! 
Would we were hence ! 

Bertha. So wish I, too— I feel myself there's that that I do lack. 
But whether what I had or saw, what wish or hope, I cannot reason 
out. Heigh ! Ho ! Once from this place 

Grace. I've ever taught my heart obedience — watched, as i( 
some pleasing toy within my hand, its prompt and equal stroke. A 
random throb, I thought impossible. 

Bertha. Mine, as a steed of gentle blood, to nicest touch I've 
trained, and gaited to my will. I must not fear the rein, or sound 
of patted neck, unanswered yet. 

Grace. The camp of likelihood may still be ours, but Bertha, 
dear, we'll swell the guard. {Exeunt.) 



Scene III. New CoHages — Laum fronting. 

Enter Major and Minot, meeting. 

Major. Why, Armistead ! Army! If I don't rise to my usual 
effusiveness, dear fellow, it's because my affections are so dread- 
fully distracted in another direction. How well you seem ! 

Minot. It's joy, Frank, to hold your hand once more. The 
warmth and truth of youth, somehow, still linger in our bosoms. 
Don't suggest that woman, more cruel than war, can come be- 
tween us. 

Major. I won't, and didn't, Army. But whence came you? 
How long do you remain. 

Minof. I'm just from Covington, where I spent the night. 
Whether I pass one here — depends. I shall not ask you of yourself, 
who answer in each cheek, but of the place and company. 

Major. You perceive, you are already acquainted with the most 
important character — the head-waiter excepted — but there are 
minor lights, those of the day as well as of the night, to well reward 
your tarry. All is bliss, save table and accommodations. 

Minot. Food and lodgings, they say, are gratis. The charge is 
for the water. 

Major You're riglit amidst your blood — the disreputable con- 
stituents of it, I mean— the rebel corpuscles. Myself and the Pad- 
dlt fords, of course, are your cousms, and you shall scarce turn 



70 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

round, without picking up an ancestress or two, with a few grand- 
uncles, and the like. 

Minot. I'll not denounce their rebellion. Had I lived, from 
birth, at the South, and you, at the North, I'm honest enough to 
feel, that neither of us, in '6i, would probably, have jumped into 
that uniform which he wore afterwards. But I can't pretend to 
sympathize with their credulous vanity and spurioiis traditions 
about family. — " Pray you, avoid it.''— I must renew my acquaint- 
ance with the Paddlefords, at once. (Aside.) Especially with my 
customer, the Doctor.— And Harry, that very Broncho in the field 
erotic, is he still misbehaving ? One of my men must some day 
break him. 

Major. On yesterday, we had a runaway, and it recalled the 
trick you showed me at your ranch. A Jew did here the feat act 
o'er as handsomely as yuu might. Would you had seen it ! 

Minot. {Aside.) Humph! — It hurts me to conceal from Frank. 
And yet I must. — A year has passed since last I visited the tract. 
But, in the Spring I go, and, mayhap, settle, there. You are to 
share the journey. What a country in resources ! If I remain, 
then, so must you, and take, if not as bribe, in brother's gift, my 
deed to half the ranch. 

Major. Ever generous Army ! thy acres vast still have their 
bounds, thy heart knows none. Too poor I am to banish hopes 
that point to seeming, if to distant, good. {Aside.) And Grace 
would have to be consulted. 

Mijiot. You've a large fortune before you, I am certain, in your 
coal and timber properties. But neither have wings. 

Major. To pass them by — I could not find, in crisis such as now, 
this bouleversenieni in the realm of order, law, religion, a trusty 
charter to desert my State, and leave her cross to others. 

Minot. To that great Commonwealth that is my mother and I 
call my own, I bear all love you breathe for yours ; though, from 
the less warm temper of my sky, at times, perhaps, in terms, less 
ardently expressed. Yet, if that son ere from these northern loins 
spring, in Dixie could I wish — or almost wish — him born. 

Major. Heaven send you both a safe deliverance ! And that 
the urchin may surpass recorded goodness, I'll stand god-father to 
him. But we must now locate you. Good rooms were never here. 
The poorest now are scarce. {Exeunt.) 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 



Enter Harry Paddle ford and Stanhope, meeting. 

Harry. Well met, Mr. Stanhope ! Disengaged ? Lend me a 
moment. 

Stanhope. Take freely, years. But I'm in poor condition. 'Tisall 
in this Sulphur Water ! Paddleford ! think of a low-country Planter 
being headached and upset by two glasses of champagne, last night ! 
If I remain much longer within this brimstone influence, I'm a 
wrecked and ruined Vestryman. 

Harry. I'll earn salvage. Give you absolution, besides. But 
listen, pray. Society is undone. Father loves Mrs. Stockton. I 
likewise. He, confidently. Therefore, in torment. Thinks her 
widow. I, without hope. So, free from pain. She loves not us. 
Lefroy addresses Miss Stockton. Simultaneously, Miss Joinville. 
They like him not. They exchange confidences. He learns it. Is 
ready for suicide. Makes me his savior. Miss Stockton fancies 
Harding. He returns all tenderness. Miss Joinville fancies me. I 
return none. You only stand unimplicated- Straighten the skein ! 

Stanhope. Look here, Paddleford ! This is you, is it not ? And 
this is I, Stanhope. It is morning. We are on the lawn. And we 
are conversing You are talking to me, and I am talking to you. 
Is it not thus ? 

Harry. Why, I never heard — What in the world? — In Heaven's 
name 

Stanhope. {Aside.) I wonder if my night's experience at Broad- 
way, was genuine after all ! — There's noihing peculiar in my con- 
duct — is there ? I appear to understand, don't I ? You are speak- 
ing seriously, and I'm listening attentively ? 

Harry. No ! No ! Yes ! Yes ! You are yourself. Your faculties 
perfect. The interview actual. My speech truth. On my honor, 
all! 

Stanhope. I scarce can credit what I hear I had been swurn be- 
fore a Chief Justice, I was victim of some mental disorder. Was 
ever such a situation ! 'Tis all from this Sulphur Water ! All from 
the Water ! I, the trusted of woman, almost made tender advances 
to a certain red headed, almond-eyed disfavored of last night, merely 
from inhaling t^e vile comnound. We must flee, Paddleford ! 
This malignant pool will iransform us into beasts It's the devil's 
own caldron, also. 



72 WHITE SlfLPIIUR SPRINGS. 

Harry. Dissolve, you think ? Scatter the flock ? — No bad con- 
ception. A jest forever. Helps father, too. Sound cymbals ! 
March commence ! I'm hitherward ! {Aside.) If my interests 
counsel ! Should Mrs. Stockton leave. I expect nothing here. 
She may thaw, elsewhere. 

Stanhope. Move, Paddleford, from out this merry breeze. The 
crisis calls for treatment. We'll cure it thus : Win Mrs. Stockton 
to this move. Gain Harding, like of himself to follow eyes that 
kindly look on his And all else falls in train. Ry bond of pro.mise 
is Miss Joinville made the guest, companion of the Stocktons, the 
instant that they leave. Lefroy, I judge, is tractable as infancy in 
slumber. The Doctor, once he find there is no widow in his love, 
will find his love fresh widowed. He'll comfort seek in absence. 
Yourself and I fill up the caravan.— The journey hence is pious. 
Let us tent in the desert, rather than temple at this Spring. The 
air itself is venemous. {Exit.) 

Harry. Then, to thy work ! Yet I differentiate Lefroy. For his 
amours? No! Flirtations are wholesome, indispensable. — Hut for 
forsaking them. — Misbehavior before the enemy. — That's every- 
where punishable. Let Lefroy avenge Lefroy. His apprehensions 
already increase. He'll see goblms, soon. {Exit.') 

Enter Minot and Bertha, toz ether. 

Minot. I own how much I have deceived you, and shown myself 
unworthy. 

Bertha. I cannot grant you were not deep in blame. Yet wert 
thou, when in fault, no better than a Jew. 

Minot. When that I learned your Uncle was no longer here, the 
post-noon train could first convey me where I must pref )rce retire, 
ere that I knelt before you. 

Bertha. And, in the interim, like Jesse's youngest son, you over- 
threw the chariot, and " houghed " the horses. 

Minot. Here further my confession. Wandering at night, in 
mean disguise, rebellious to your Uncle's banishment — consulting 
on my bond of fate, and present means to end it 

Bertha. O! crime too horrible, when wrought in wild ne'er visited 
by reptile, benst or bird, much less, each day, by man. Could'st 
thou conceive it here, where, with thy breath, thou must thy mask 
resign, and leave my name mouthed with catastrophe ? 



WHITE SFLPIIint SI'IMNGS. 73 

Minot. A niind so rash, profane, as to indulge my thonght, was 
buckled not to consequence. 

Beriha. Though being Jew, you, from your annals, might, for 
deed like this, unholy instance draw, and feign it warrant, that you 
stand here is proof your resolution in the end was not unchristian. 
And so I'll say, conceits of evil coming to a Jew, were by a true be- 
liever baffled and expelled. 

Minot. Would I might own thou wert as near to truth as full of 
gentleness ! Hygeia from her seeming mimic state came down ; 
struck into stone my vagrant steps ; upbraided me with sinful par- 
ley of the soul against her law ; and bade me from her magic chalice 
drink, and know rekindled hope. 

Bertha. Compel me not to deem you still, no more responsible 
to action, than when, on that uncanny night, you dreamed of 
brownies, fairies, stock and stones. 

Mi?iot. No quarrel, pray. Think, if I err, thy charms, like those 
of Health, have wrapt me into ecstasy too fond. No sooner had 
the coursing draft these veins begun to full, than black despair took 
wing, and rosy hope found lodgment in my breast. 

Bertha. The confidence you then imbibed, and still so well re- 
tain, may prove, I trust, communicable. But when Hygeia fair such 
wonders wrought, were you not then, also, but Jew? 

Minot. Through my pretence she probed, ere that we spoke ; no 
doubt, before we met. The morrow of her ministry shed its en- 
couragement. Amid the wreck of matter from the storm, found I 
these trinkets and this prophecy. {Handing golden hearts and in- 
scription.) 

Bertha. {After examining hearts.) And you discovered them? 
{Reading prophecy.) May inspiration never speak with more divin- 
ity than in this couplet ! Every congratulation I, in such prayer, 
sum up ! 

Minot. You can the prophecy fulfill, as well as the petition grant. 

Bertha. {Aside.) My heart misgives me ! Some subtle charm, 
indeed, dwells in these shining pennyworths ! I pray you, now re- 
take them. 

Minot. And ere we bring their promise to the test ? Here am I 
till morrow, at the most. I would you might so long retain them. 
But that they may not, meanwhile, mischief you, I'll be so bold as 
beg look in upon them. {Exit, bowing.) 



74 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Bertha. Ah ! Bertha, have a care ! Nay ! no more care ! I own 
enough! Alas ! poor firmness ! that's never been assailed. Uncle, 
I fear another rebel to thy will. {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. My trunk is packed. Yes ! I'm off. I'll not remain a 
laughing-stock. They are already constrained to smother their 
grins, in my presence. O ! They dare not giggle, openly ! They 
know the Paddlefords. They've heard of Monmouth, New Orleans, 
Buena Vista and Gettysburg. They won't be caught ! But they'll 
roar, behind my back ! I'll avoid them. Settle my bill at the 
Office — Return to Carolina Row. Remain there till they call me 
for the train. I'll send for Harry and say good-bye. Yes ! And 
I'll set him to frame my excuses for not doing the like to my ac- 
quaintances. If there is one being on all the earth, more ingenious 
than another, in concocting smoothe, plausible, but purely imagin- 
ary and deceitful narratives, it is my own unfilial and solitary off- 
spring. {Exit.) 

Enter Major. 

Major. My rosy morn ! — where is she ? The hours are hers — 
they dwell pavilioned with the beautiful. 

Enter Messenger. 

Messenger. {Producing Telegram.) For Major Harding, Sir ! 

Major. Yes ! Let the office know I have it. {Exit Messenger. 
Reads.) " Reach my residence ten tomorrow morning . Petition in 
involuntary bankruptcy. Farnsworth.'''' Was ever fate like mine ! 
But scarcely here ! Just melting in her peerless gaze, and in an in- 
stant snatched away ! Yes, leaving that/ M L. in unencountered 
rivalry ! Bankruptcy ! A plague upon the system ! The personal 
favorite — the party hack — the undeserving and the ignorant — feed 
fat upon it. Revengeful envy stabs the credit of successful honesty, 
and the self-poised thief wipes off his unpaid score, to start, with un- 
surrendered swag, on new careers of recklessness and plunder 
Some villian, Farnsworth, thus hath gotten thee upon the hip ! 
For I do know, within my soul, that never offering was by priest on 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 75 

altar laid, with lesser blemish than thyself, in this fell business. 
Farnsworth ! Farnsworth ! You much demand of friendship ! But 
I promised you at College, ere yet the world's rude blows had 
rained upon our crest, to stand by you in life, and while my name's 
Frank Harding, come weal, come woe, I'll see you through ! Well, 
I shan't be embarrassed by luggage ! That train comes not im- 
mediately. I'll reap the interval. The perfume of her presence 
should lead me to her. {Exit.) 



Scene IV. Mrs. Stockton's Cottage — In front of . 

Mrs. S. They are most trustworthy, Grace, especially. For no 
one has she thus far cared. Yet that she much dislikes that Hard- 
ing, I am not oversure. I'll ascertain with certainty. If she do 
fancy him, with counsel soft I'll bathe such thoughts away. Yet 
is her nature such, that once she loved, or so imagined, Neptune 
would waste salt seas in vain. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Stanhope. Lady, good your health and morning ! 

Mrs. S. My friend, good morn ! Late hours sit lightly on you. 

Stanhope. That might I something question, did fair speech per- 
mit The night itself is wholesome, but I find the air here suits me 
not. It tells upon my senses. And my emotions now are firstgrown 
saucy. I take my leave, today. It is the vapor from this Sulphur- 
eous Spring —I never drink the water. Mark, how infection 
spreads. The flowers coquet. The grasses flirt. The trees make 
love. Zephyrs caress. The stars gaze tenderly at one another. A 
week will find no heart unmated here. 

Mrs. S. Good Sir, bethink you ! Is it so bad as this ? Some 
things, at times, myself have noticed, yet held them not for thought. 

Stanhope. Wrong, madam, may I seem, yet in pure truth and 
honesty, I speak my inward creed. 

Mrs. S. Ha ! Ha ! I wear no penetrable stuff, and think my 
daughter locked in steel as trusty as mv own. 

Stanhope. I am too free. 



76 WHITE STLPHTTR SPRINGS, 



Enter Harry l^addleford. 

J/rs. S. Learn this dread news from Mr. Stanhope, pray. Cupids, 
he vows, sport round us in battalions — breed from this magic pool — 
provoke the apathetic air — himself they force to exile. Be witness 
how that fancy may confound the wise ! 

Harry. I'd fain obey. Yet know not how. He nothing errs. 
This water charms. Makes childish age. Inflames sweet youth. 
Ravels the social chord. Each drop hold Sirens. I journey with 
him. . 

Mrs. S. KAside.) My month as guest expires today. Ha! Ha! 
Your pleasantry deserves more converse. {Exeunt Stanhope and 
Harry, bowing.) What freak is this ? Stanhope is all respect, 
Harry all love. There's something here to fathom. Not gnomes 
nor magic, charms nor sprites, but human motives, work to fright 
us hence. Save as to what is soon bestowed, our trunks are some- 
time ready. For that, in nothing hearing of our claim, it might, I 
feared, my sudden presence and my tact require. But joy, thus far, 
to tell ! the mail just in, assures me that the foughten field is won. 
And this might urge me stay. But, if I do, my husband, by the 
same post, writes, he comes, which to prevent, as needful to my 
prestige, and to elude my dear Commissioner, who, too, will hither 
hasten, as I fear, I'll ply the telegraph, and borrow wings, though 
waxen. 

Enter Grace. 

Dear wanderer, welcome ! I had marked you lost. Sit with me, 
Grace, and render all you know. 

Grace. Heigh ! Ho ! 'Tis nothing, dear mamma, save of my 
love for you. 

Mrs. S. You are not weary of such gold and purple tints as 
pleasure, like rich evening, hangs o'er your sky, my dear? 

Grace. Not tired — not sated. And yet, were you disposed — I'd 
not refuse — to leave. And in like mood stands Bertha, as I know. 

Mrs. S. Ah ! well ! you have discussed it, then. Your reasons, 
daughter, did you mention them ? 

Grace. My thoughts, mamma, like to myself, are yours. {Bash- 
Jully.) With me— 'tis — Major — Harding. Her, of men now here. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 77 

your Harry. Our hearts, we hope, are still our own. What seems 
like interest, we, ere it bud, at least, in flower burst, would fly. 

]]frs. S. {Embracmg Grace.') Dear Grace, thou frank and pru- 
dent strain of maidenhood — thou sweetest pattern of fond, filial 
duty, love, obedience, take thy fair guerdon — wish — and that this 
day ! Stanhope and Harry both now journey hence, and to like 
voyage had urged me, ere you came, with many a hint against this 
love-sick air. Go speak to Bertha. The time is brief. We must 
prepare. To many say adieu. 

Grace. {Aside.) Now doth departure, when in sight, seem yet 
more painful than continuance ! Thanks, thanks, mamma, your 
Iris is away ! {Ex-it.) 

Mrs. S. Well ! My suspects were true. My confidence in Grace, 
her undissembling heart has well repaid. Whate'er their game, 
Harry and Stanhope speak here by the card. 

Re-enter Harry Paddleford. 

Harry. Time presses ! Our dialogue resume ! 

Mrs. S. I part ! Yet hold ! On one condition, nursling ; yet 
much I grieve to name it. Bertha companions Grace. Keep you 
away. October's sun will find us in New York. There seek you 
it and me. 

Harry. Dictator fair, I yield. The yoke is reared ! Vaevictis! 
Your Volscian passes under ! {Exeunt.) 

Enter Bradford and Stanhope. 

Bradford. And not merely from yourself, but from Mrs. and 
Miss StocKton, I separate with much regret. They have awakened 
in me sensations to which I had long been stranger. The daughter, 
at times, resembles, I almost fancy, what was once my Agnes, at 
like age. 

Stanhope. Both ladies. Sir, express to me, the cordial interest 
that they take in you But when that Early was no more, your 
daughter. Sir, was never she thereafter known, but as Madame 
Dulaney ? 

Bradford. She was ; and thus the documents you had do testify. 

Stanhope. Sir, with your leave, they witnessed nothing in that 
kind! 



78 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Bradford. (Withdrawing from pocket, well filled large Envelope, 
from which he extracts a smaller one.) The proofs lie in thi-^ En 
velope, wliich, now I first perceive, dampness has sealed, and you, 
perhaps, not feeling free, did fail to open. {Opening, and glancing at 
enclosure.) When Early was, for some time, passed away, she chose 
the name of Madame Feversham, which, until 1840, she retained. 

Stanhope. That same sealed envelope had near proved fatal to 
our hopes ! For, what you from its contents now reveal — Sir, be 
composed, and seated, pray, — does well assure me, as I shall ex- 
plain, your daughter's daughter you now find in Mrs. Stockton. 

Bradford. {Agitated.) Bear, my kinsman, bear, greatest of 
benefactors, with age struggling between infirmity and joy. My 
daughter's child ! Proceed ! 

Stanhope. Years since, sojourning in Gironde, I met its reverend 
Bishop, who, while priest in Paris, did confess my sister, after her 
union with the Catholic faith, while Madame Campan"s pupil. 

Bradford. The school was celebrated in the world polite ! 

Stanhope. From him I learned, that, through deceits by Madame 
Feversham, with well-feed emissaries, practiced on church and 
state, a child of four years old at Pauillac christened as Marie 
L'Erfant, was, by Annette, her nurse from birth, conveyed, in '38, 
by Madame's orders, to the ship Rapide, at Bordeaux lying, and on 
board unto two holy sisters trusted, to place within the Sacred 
Heart, a convent seminary of New Orleans, with lavish draft in 
favor of this child, unto the Planters' Bank. 

Bradford. O tygress heart ! that thus could banish lisping in- 
fancy ! O soul corrupt and bosom foul, that did divorce thy child, 
that no impediment might stay thy haste to most repulsive ruin ! — 
Yet, something more you learned. Did he no further tell, nor 
point the way 

Stanhope. This Bishop good, to me exhibited the register of 
baptism, a letter from the sisters two, to their Superior writ, wherein 
they did explain, at large, how that their mission carried, as directed, 
and, from Annette, an attestation sworn, which in full identified the 
child. And this Annette, when that I visited the Province, was 
therein resident, and with her, more than once, I freely did con- 
verse. 

Bradford. Strange, marvellous, as this story, I do confide in it 
as true. Henceforth, Dl doubt of nothing, but believe the sea- 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. ' 79 

man's tale, the statesman's oath, the traveler's diary, the lawyer's 
plea, and things, if such can be, that skeptics deem still more in- 
cr<='dible. 

Stanhope. The rest, Sir, is a word. Happening in New Orleans, 
about the time the people's crown was placed on General Pierce, I 
visited the Convent and the Bank, to find that Marie, her diploma 
won, had, in the year thereafter, herself been won by Mr. Stockton, 
a wealthy Planter, on the River, and a worthy, with whom, but for 
our present converse, I had not dreamed to mix the name of near 
descent of yours, and distant kin of mine. 

Bradford. Child of my blood, the smeared fortunes of thy 
mother, draw thee still closer to this breast ! How eagerly I await 
thy recognition of the bond between us, so long unknown, so late, 
and yet so providentially, revealed. — You I must beg, dear friend, — 
I feel myself unequal — to tell her briefly so much of this story as 
needful may be deemed to verify conclusions. 

Stanhope. That will I, and with delicacy, Sir. {Exeunt severally.) 

End of Act IV. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. Carolina Rozv. 

Eftter Minot a?id Bertha. 

Minot. I hope your golden hearts, from long seclusion, from un- 
used commerce with refining touch, have not shone unmannerly. 

Bertha. I am not conscious they've offended, yet, if they've 
brought a harm unknown, the ill being done, I'll deem it good, and 
so commend it. 

Minot. But since these weird relics first you clasped, was there 
no thought, nor pulse, you sometimes feared, or half conceived, by 
them might be attuned ? 

Bertha. To keep in ward the treasure of another, must move re- 
membrance, now or then, to both, and, poor physician that I am, 
my pulse, methinks, beat ever variably. — But, as good steward, thy 
riches I do now restore, in dread to intercept the issue they foretell. 



80 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS 

Minot. The prophet speaks to one who finds, not him or her who 
keeps. And I, by finding, in that act the assurance found extended 
to the finder. This, once complete, in its own nature, stands irre- 
vocable. 

Bertha. {Aside.) My fate, I see, hangs much upon this contest. — 
Think me not in opinion bold, nor opposite to judgment, if weighing 
whether promise so benign, unaltered in his favor run, who willingly 
that promise gives away. 

Minot. {Aside.) She'll keep them, and the augury make true ! — 
These slender toys, I say again, fair Bertha, are not themselves the 
promise. If they be lost, or be destroyed, the assurance still re- 
mains. The thief who pilfers them, steals not the pact. They are 
but proofs and evidence of that intrinsic thing which lends them 
value. ^f : 

Bertha. I am unskilled to reach the mind, by reasons plausible 
which men call argument. And, to conclude these pliant strokes 
and subtle tests, I do consent the mystic emblems keep, till that you 
order their return, as soon, I trust, you may. 

Minot. Now are they concecrated in mine eyes as if thrice blessed 
by Bishop. And till occasion lend us further parle, I pray you 
sometimes meditate, all complement, fruition, of this prophecy, 
resides with thee. 

Bertha. I would not willingly a trespass do, against the good 
presaged to friend or foe, and 'tis not as your foe, I say adieu. 
{Exit.) 

Minot. Now, could I to Hygeia raise, such paean as the Greek 
did never to her father hymn. Now, do I seem my father to behold, 
with vision rapt, into the future peer, and pen the triumph round 
those shining symbols rolled, like Vulcan forging, with prophetic 
ken, the pageant of Rome's conquering arms, upon Eneas' buckler. 
{Exit.) 

Enter Lefroy. 

Lefroy. I'm awfully nervous, yes, shaken all to pieces. I slept 
not a wink the night. — I would not this morning encounter either 
of those girls, for the wealth of Monte Cristo. — Somebody's been 
telegraphing to that Major, too. I wonder what Paddleford pro- 
poses. If I had his sense, I'd make my mark. I'd be head of a 
newspaper, the Weather Bureau, or a Hospital. Yes ! I could 
never have fallen into the present box. How cool and collected he 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 81 

always is ! — It's lucky for me they have no brothers.— I'll be guided 
entirely by his advice. Yet it's strange he don't come to relieve 
my anxieties. 

Enter Harry Paddleford. 

Ah ! Paddleford ! dear Paddleford ! comfort, console, advise me. 
Yes ! Yes ! what must I do, Paddleford ? 

Harry. {Aside.) Can't treacherously injure him. — Only corrobo- 
rate his imagination — Let's understand each other. I'm your 
representative. Given carte blanche. Receive and send communi- 
cations. Conduct usual preliminaries. Conclude final arrange- 
ment. 

Lefroy. By all means, Paddleford. Yes, assuredly ! — I mean, I 
suppose so. That is— if it comes to this. But, Paddleford, you 
surely can't apprehend any such gloomy and depressing contin- 
gencies ! 

Harry. Never mind the future ! Keep cool at present ! Trust 
in me. 

Lefroy. I do trust you, Paddleford ! I trust you with my heart, 
soul and body — But how can a man in my situation keep cool? 
His reputation — his honor — and, perhaps, even his life — at stake. 

Harry. Easily ! You leave today. Next train. Tell Stanhope ! 
I accompany you. Ask no questions. Pack your trunk. It's 
necessary. {Exit.) 

Lefroy. I'm bewildered out of my five senses ! Representative! — 
Communications !— Prelhninaries ! — Arratigement ! Ships me off 
in disgrace ! No ! No ! He wouldn't intend that ! Yet he says it's 
necessary for me to leave. — And he is going with me. Perhaps, I'm 
in some great personal danger. I guess he's going along to protect 
me. Of course, he is He wouldn't let me ask him a single ques- 
tion.— I don't think I'll go— No ! I won't ! Notastep! But if they are 
after me, they'll catch me here, of a certainty. I may slip through, 
on the train. I wonder who's taking up for them — Yes ! I think 
I'd better go. I'll put some fresh cartridges in my pistol, and I'll 
keep my eyes skinned. Yes ! Like a lynx ! {Exit.) 

Enter Major atid Grace, meetitig. 

Major. One glimpse of Heaven, again ! Yet won with waitings 
that were painful still, if unrewarded thus. 



82 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Grace. We must be serious, now. I leave today ! Yes, ere we 
dine. 

Major. Then, let me say, there is between us reached, that trust- 
ful stage, of old and mellowed phrase, a7i understanding . 

Grace. (Aside.) Something, beyond, methinks ! — Ha! Ha! 
On such presentment, 1 am witness-free ! Call other proof ! 

Major. It pains me not you go. I bear a heart content, yet 
such as fondly loves you. 

Grace. No ! I had not supposed you cared. — I weighed your 
balmy speeches at their worth. 

Major. You found them precious, then, my love. — They breathed 
but of yourself— But contest is untimely. 

Grace. It was begun by you — What e'er you feel, you might re- 
serve for other ears, your pleasure at our parting. I can but say, 
it falls. Sir, short of mine. 

Major. Darling, unthink yourself and me. {Showing Telegram.) 
Read this ! Should sorrow cloud that flight which lends me still 
companion to your wing? As from his rock-bound aerie, joyful 
soars the royal bird, so I from hence. Yea, journeying from this 
garden fair, bear with me Paradise, by taking all that makes it. 

Grace. I do recall my censure. 'Twas bred in your false speech. 
— Now must I fly ! 

Major. {Kissing her hand.) Sweet, seraph, to thy wings. (/T^r- 
eunt.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford and Harry Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Yes, Harry, we must say good bye ! I have already tar- 
ried here o'erlong. The place mates not my age nor taste. Too 
much frivolity ! Too much. Sir, entirely. I can stand it no longer. 
I'm off"! — If you remain in the country, you'll some day dine with 
me ? 

Harry. {Affecting surprise.) Why — father ! — I hav'nt seen you ! 
I am but here ! 

Dr. P. I am resolved, Sir ! — I continue at no such resort — It pos- 
sesses no attraction for a gentleman of my settled, unambitious and 
retiring tendencies. None, whatever. I am off". Sir ! Off! 

Harry. Then go I, too. We part not now. No ! No ! Not yet. 

Z>r. P. Harry, look you, Harry ! I don't understand this sud- 
den, summer, gust of rising duty — this white, spontaneous, flame of 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 83 

pure affection It is entirely too unnatural; and it comes upon me 
without warning. Now, hark'e, Sir, I'll put up with no deceit ! I'm 
not in a humor for it; and I'll not stand it an instant. Not an in- 
stant, Sir ! 

Harry. {Meekly.) You wrong me. My aspirations are tender. 
Let me join you. Do not deny me ! I entreat you, father. 

Dr. P. You shall, you shall, my own dear boy ! Harry, I don't 
feel very cheerful, this morning.— There's been an area of low ba- 
rometer over my spirits, for now, sometime — I'm getting to be an 
old man, Harry — We can only be together a short while longer. 
Yes, my son, give me your company, when yet you may. But, 
whither shall we journey ? 

Harry. Anywhere ! — Immaterial ! — I have no preference. — So 
I'm with you ! 

Dr. P. What say you to a week at Old Point? It is rather re- 
versing things, but the place is comfortable, I hear, the weather 
cool, the society agreeable. Yes, let us first go there. 

Harry. Agreed ! 1 )one ! I'll prepare. 

Dr. P Yes, 'tis time. Pray, give directions for our mail. {Ex- 
eunt.) 

Enter Grace and Bertha. 

Grace. Yes, most curious, that while we were longing to go, 
mamma was persuaded to take us. 

Bertha. Yet those we thougt to fly, are going, too. 'Twere now 
too late, I fear, to alter resolution and remain. The Middletons 
would still take care of me. 

Grace. Too late, my Bertha ! Both for appearance and effect ! 
But know, at best or most, we shall not be pursued. 

Bertha. Then all things float upon a silver sea ! Prepare we for 
the voyage. {Exeunt ) 



Scene II. Mrs. Stockton's Cottage, Porch of. 

Bradford, Mrs. Stockton and Grace. 

Mrs. S All circumstances past of pain let us forget, father, to 
welcome present joy. 



84 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Bradford. {Embracing Mrs. S. — Dr. P. passing, in distance, ob- 
serving.) All, all, evanished, my own dear, treasure-trove, Marie ! 
(To Grace.) Draw nearer, love. — Those eyes ! Ah ! yes ! the same! 
They were hers. {Kissing Grace, Major, passing in distance, ob- 
serving.) 

Grace. Something, in accents falling from afar, hath long, dear 
parent, softly breathed of precious bond between us. Now, let me 
ever feel and share a daughter's love. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Mrs. S. Ah ! Mr. Stanhope ! — Precious restorer ! if not more 
honored founder ! Through you — these filial hearts, in mingled 
tears and joys, upon a father's bosom palpitate ! How can our knees 
in earth sink far enough, to do you reverence, or make known our 
gratitude ? 

Bradford. My kinsman, friend, and, if there be a name than friend 
more dear, that name, thou has recalled lost worlds to one another. 
And in that realm that's centered fixed above yon spheres that roll 
in music o'er us, may your reward stand registered ! 

Stanhope. Nothing do I claim. Much here seems marvel, some- 
thing but accident; yet all belongs to Heaven, which never had such 
wondrous union wrought, except to bless it. And, with light heart, 
go I upon your way, in part. 

Bradford. O ! the whole ! Let us persuade you. Desert us not, 
as strangered to our joy. 

Stanhope. To gratify your goodness and my longings, is not now 
possible. But ere the sleigh bell wake with merry round the Har- 
lem road, we'll meet again. 



Scene III. Road, fro7it of Hotel, opposite Tansus Roiv. 

Enter Major. 

Major. Dear Grace, I never meant to play the spy ! Confidence, 
once rent, may be patched. Not all the looms of Persia can re- 
weave it. The man who sets a watch on wife or sweetheart — on 
marriage or aff"ection — drops poison in his own misplaced cup, let 
fault be where it may. Nor could'st thou, love, imagine aught, ex- 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS, 85 

empt from maiden warrant. — Yet, methinks, that ancient gentleman 
his sense of favor and of transport, did express something less 
fervently that I had. {Exit.) 

Enter Dr. Paddleford. 

Dr. P. Serves me right ! Why did'nt I keep my resolution, and 
remain about my own cottage ? Had a husband, eh ? She was cer- 
tainly indulging Bradford in some of the connubial perquisites! 
To no such delicacies was ever I invited. No ! When the height 
of expectation had arrived, she read me the Prior — Marriage — Act, 
after having induced me, for weeks, to believe her a widow. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Stanhope. Sir, had you witnessed the true love meeting between 
Mrs. Stockton and Mr. Bradford ! 

Dr. P. At a distance, by accident, I did behold part of their dis- 
graceful conduct. Had I been nearer, egad ! Sir, they'd have got 
a hot slice of my notions of propriety. Such open and unblushing 
familiarities — such suggestive misbehavior 

Stanhope. His grand-daughter and his great-granddaughter, after 
years of inquiry, sorrow and perplexity, restored to his arms, Sir, 
as if by miracle ! 

Dr. P. W-h-a-t ! You need not repeat my observations. Mr. 
Stanhope. They were made under peculiar circumstances. Sir ! and 
were addressed to your confidence, your strict confidence, Sir ! 
{Exit.) 

Stanhope. We are every mother's son gone mad, together ! 'Tis 
all in this Sulphur Water !— All in the water ! {Exit.) 



Scene IV. Lawn in front of Tansus Row. 

Enter Mother Craddock. 

Mother C. The 'ole Springs seems ha-goin' with 'em ! Marry, 
come hup ! Small joy there'd be ha-stayin', hafter the cream was 
went ! 



86 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 



Enter Major and Grace. 

La ! bless your dear 'art, Miss, hand Miss Rose's son ! Hi couldn't 
'elp to say good-bye, Miss, so please never think hi meant no 'arm. 
Sir. Hand Mr. Thornton sends 'is, Miss. Honly 'e wont come, Sir. 
'E's got 'is back hup 

Grace. {Aside.) How could we have offended him ? 

Mother C. Ha-fallin' from that 'ammock. Miss ! 

•Grace. Harm? It is most kind and thoughtful, that thus you 
come to see us off, good mother. And for Mr. Thornton we are 
more than sorry. So tell him, with our farewell, pray. 

Major. We feel great pleasure, mother, you so much think of 
those who justly think still more of you, and of friend Thornton, 
whom, good man, we miss, and hope you'll soon make well. 

Mother C. La ! Miss ! hi was that skeered, comin' ! Right hin 
the path w'at the haxmen 'ad chopped hout, was two funny kind her 
snakes, hasleep, coiled hup. Sir, with 'eads like gold. Miss, hand 
hies has red has hany poppy. Sir ! Hi were hin mighty 'urry, hand 
the honly way were 'long that path. Hit would'nt do to jump 
hover 'em, Miss, 'cause they might wake hup w'en hi was hin the 
hair. Sir. Snakes wakes mighty suddent, they says. Miss. 

Grace. And did you for us dare such peril, mother ? You killed 
them, in the end, or to flight, at least, compelled them ? 

Mother C. Honly one stone were haround. Miss. But, la ! Sir ! 
hi never were no David, like you. Sir, hand my rock went hup the 
helm. Miss Then, tries hi to wake them reptiles, with a bough. 
Sir, but they never moved 'and nor foot, Mi.ss. — Marry, come hup, 
says hi, rememb'rin' to myself, snakes is frequent kilt by thunder. 

Grace. And so, your lions being dead 

Mother C. Bless your dear 'art. Miss, snakes is 'eap more cun- 
nin' than lions ! So hi creeps hup hover 'em, hand hin ha minute, 
says hi, ha-laughin' to myself, hif they hever was snakes, they his 
garter-snakes, w'ats 'armless. 

Major. You reasoned from their stripes, perhaps. 

Mother C. Hi were hentirely hout hof my reason. Sir, w'en hi 
picks hup these hiligant harticles, {Producing Garters^ hand, fear 
hof hother snakes, live hor dead. Miss, 'ere hi scampers, hin ha 
'and-gallop ! 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 87 

Grace. Well, such experience deserves much gay debate. Ha ! 
Ha ! Ha ! And you, too, found, good mother, the tree of knowl- 
edge is not always that of life. 

Mother C. The honly tree hi noticed there. Miss, were that helm. 
— But them garters, la! Sir! they wouldn't meet roun' my wrist. 
Nobody but some fine lady. Miss, could 'alf wear 'em, comfort -like. 
Hand bless your deary hies, Miss, hi thinks they be your wery hex- 
act fit. La ! Miss ! I knows so. Don't you, Sir ? 

Major. Well now — really — in fact — 'pon my word— good mother. 
What use will you make of such valuable commodities ? 

Mother C. W'y, Sir, findin's haint keepin's ! Hif hi don't 'ear 
hof the lady, take 'em to the Hoffice, hof course. Miss. The clerk 
puts hup ha notice, the howner proves 'em 'ers — 'e wouldn't make 
'er try 'em hon, hi 'ardly ihinks, Sir — hand gits back 'er property. 
Miss. 

Enter Bradford and Mrs. Stockton. 

Bradford. Here, for the moment, shall I leave you, dear. A few 
words must I send to Boston. 

Grace. But ere that moment, father, lend thy daughter one. My 
good and faithful friend, mamma, {Indicating Mother C.,) amid the 
storm, is here to speak her kind good-bye. 

Mrs. S. Already borne in mother's heart, receive a mother's 
blessing. 

Grace. My worthy friend, our father shares in you our interest, 
and, ere he leave, must know you. 

Bradford. Deeply and tenderly I partake of it, good mother. 
May we meet again, and till and after, then, may happiness attend 
you {Exeunt Bradford, Grace and Major.) 

Mother C. {Courtesying, affected ) My hies, some'ow, hat times, 
gits blinded, Mum ! Hit's 'ard, Mum, to give hup your beauty 
daughter. Mum, hand Miss Rose's son, w'at's so soon ha-marryin' 
'er, but hit's ha bit 'arder, Mum, to throw you hand your 'usband 
hinto the bargain, now has hi knows you bpth so well, Mum. 

Mrs. S. Take heart, good mother. The best of friends must 
separate. Each season lends, in this regard, its sadness. 

Mother C. But 'ere his so many sorries, come hupon one, hun- 
hexpected, from the same family, Mum ! The four hof you together. 
Mum, his has hafflctin' to me, Mum, has you must halways be to 



88 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

heach hother. — Hi 'opes there be no grand-father, hor grand-mother, 
to swell hour mutual mis'ries ! — The grand-child will want ha good 
year, you knows, Mum ! 

Mrs. S. No, good woman, our host hath all appeared, at this sad 
muster of farewells. And may we never know a heart less true than 
yours, nor you need one as much so. 

Enter Harry Paddleford. 

Good morning, once again, and so, the better morning, Mr. Paddle- 
ford. With this good creature did our wanderers haven find, upon 
that fearful night. 

Harry. Welcome, kind hostess ! I salute you. May you live 
forever ! 

Mother C. {Courtesying.) Hi thanks you 'artily. Sir ! — But hi'm 
honly ha werry poor sinner, Sir, w'at's 'ad no rights to the mercy 
days hi's spent. 

Harry. {Observing Garters.) Humph ! — Humph !— They seem 
familiar. 

Mother C. Sure hand certain, Sir ! 'As you hever seen 'em hon 
the young lady. Sir ? 

Harry. By no means ! You mistake me, mother. — Can't iden- 
tify them, absolutely. — It's mere impression. 

Mrs. S. {Aside.) I had not marked, without him, their fall or 
their redemption. Some plan he has towards them. I will not dis- 
concert it. {To Harry!) But now to Father. {Exit.) 

Enter Minot. 

Harry. My cousin Minot, mother ! Army, don't be confused ! 
Behold these honi-soits. 

Minot. I am glad to know you. But beware, beware this kin of 
mine ! Trust rather to your serpents of old Nile. 

Mother C. {Courtesying ) La ! hand hit's you, Sir, got them gol- 
den 'arts ! Marry, come hup, they was your father's hown ! These, 
w'at hi finds. Sir, near the Leap, hi halways calls 'em garters, though, 
has the gentleman says, they may be 'oney-sweets, Sir. 

Minot. {Examining ) Of quality and pattern quite their own ! 
And such a pair, the Jew, on yesterday, to me declared, he sold 
unto the Doctor. 

LofC. 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINC4S. 89 

Harry. Who. subsequently, lost them — Of this, there's proof. 

Mmot. It were well, good mother, that of the Doctor you some 
question make. 

Harry. {Aside.) Recall Vesuvius to eruption ! 

Mother C. Hi takes my duty from my betters, Sir ! But, la ! Sir, 
hif you hasks this Doctor 'ere, 'ow far hof be the Comet, 'e makes 
hout ha forty dollar bill, hand w'en you his ha-leaven. Sir, with 
friends hall round, 'e slaps that bill hupon you. Sir, 'opin you'd 
rather pay, than make ha scene, hor miss the train. Sir. — 'E's bin 
waylayin' more'n usual, Sir, this season, people bein' more 'ealthy, 
hand more talkative, Sir. 

31inof. Of some supposed pirate in these waters, oft have I heard. 
But the Doctor we mention, is one of the guests, good woman, and 
not a rover of the Spanish Main. If I find Dr. Paddleford, {Aside,) 
— as so to do I will avoid — I'll present you. Else, introduce your- 
self — You're sure of a warm reception — Anybody will point him out. 

Harry. He's easily distinguished. Short, stout, ruddy, beard- 
less Carries small green bag. He'll recognize the articles. 

Mother C. La ! Sir, hi 'opes we finds 'im !— Hand hour pockets 
his safe, hany 'ow. Sir ! {Exeunt.) 



Scene V. Depot, Platform at. 

Eyiter Lefroy, as traveler. 

Lefroy. If I only knew where I was going ! I wish Paddleford 
would made his appearance. This state of perplexity and sus- 
pense 

Eriter Dr. Paddleford, bearing small green bag. 

{Aside.) Good Heavens ! They've got a surgeon ! Yes ! and that 
bag contains his instruments ! I hear them jingling, now. I un- 
derstand — yes, I see— why I am thus hurried away. Oh ! My ! — 
They've thrust me into a duel. Yes, as sure as I'm born. — Now, I 
won't fight — I don't know how — The affair is so sudden I can't learn 
— I've reconsidered my views about being challenged by one of their 
friends — Yes, just after I expressed them. Renounced them, en- 
tirely. 



90 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 

Dr. P. {Observing Lefroy, and advancing .) Ah ! Sir ! Ready 
for the road ! Punctuality, on such occasions, is much required. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Of course! I knew it ! I said so as soon as I 
saw him ! 

Dr. P. I attend you most willingly, Sir. — Glad to have the honor. 
I trust it is as satisfactory to you, Sir. 

Lefroy. Yes ! Yes ! — That is— I suppose so. — I was awaiting your 
son. 

Dr. P. I, also. He requires my presence. Entreats me not to 
refuse. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Yes ! Certainly !— In case I'm shot ! Doctor, 
have — you — any — objection— to — revealing— our — destination ? 

Dr. P. We go. Sir, to Virginia's lovely shore. A spot, they say, 
that offers much retirement, — rare seclusion. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) I'll de d d if I fight ! — It's unchristian ! It's 

against the law ! And, I'd be killed at the first fire ! 

Ai distance, Enter Major and Grace, as travelers. 

And here I am, face to face, with one of the primal causes, yes, orig- 
inal fountains, of my misfortunes. I'll turn my back. {Turning ) 

At distance. Enter Minot and Bertha, as travelers. 

And here, in double vengeance, comes the other ! I'll reverse. 
{Turning.) 

At distance, Enter Bradford and Stanhope, Harry Paddleford and 
Mrs. Stockton. 

Dr. P. {Aside.) Mrs. Stockton ! — The being of all others I would 
avoid. And ready for the train ! My own offspring, that pestilen- 
tial Harry, — two fathers snubbed — her escort ! I thought the ten 
derness and duty of that obsequious villain, were only shams. But 
I'll not go with them. Not a mile. The same engine shall not 
transport us. I'll return to the Hotel. Yes! Immediately! {Going.) 

Enter Mother C. 

Mother C. {Espying, and, with courtesy, advattcing towards Dr. 
Paddleford.) 'Ere be them magnificent, bran'-new, nobility, gar- 



WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS. 91 

ters. Sir, — your hown 'oney-sweets — vv'at's git found hat the Leap, 
Sir, w'ere hi thought they was snakes, Sir. 'Ere they be. Sir, has 
sound hand has ha new sov'rin. Sir. Good luck you 'as 'em, Sir, 
halter such liorful times. Sir ! {Offers articles.) 

Dr. P. {Aside, looking around.) And now, these Banquos ! — 
"Which of you have done this?" {To Mother C.) Not quite so 
vehement, good woman. The — the guests are parting, now, you 
know. Anything to interrupt tlie solemnity — distract their com- 
munion 

Harry. {Advancing, to Dr. P.) Don't contend with her. She 
means no ill. Little unbalanced, perhaps. Pacificateher. Accept 
the gew-gaws - Once more ! — We seek Old Point. Mrs Stockton, 
Newport. You may never meet. In friendship, part. 

Mrs. S. {Advancing.) Yes, knight of choicest order, the amateur 
theatricals — the tableaux vivants — must proceed without us. — I am 
your friend ; dear Doctor, be thou mine. My lack of widowhood, 
ne'er cost me lovers. They are the worst that know my husband 
best. 

Dr. P {Aside.) Then there's nothing ridiculous in my deport- 
ment, after all ! Harry at once snuffed out suspicion about those 
awkward garters. I felt from the beginning that my conduct was 
not only entirely natural, but eminently dignified and becoming. 
{To Mrs. S.) Madam! your subject, friend, admirer, ever! My 
fond adventures hang fresh garlands on your worth. I'll lengthen 
life to laugh them o'er. 

Stanhope. {Advancing.) Do not omit, Sir — 'Twas all in that 
Sulphur Water !— -All in the Water ! 

Dr. P. {To Mother C.) And from your honest hand, I do re- 
ceive, good mother, these proffered souvenirs of pleasing hours 
about to close, and rest your thankful debtor. 

Mother C. Hand welcome to w'ats yourn. Sir ! But, la ! Sir ! hi 
thought. Sir ! bein' married, you couldn't suffer nothin' more. Sir ; 
but has you his not. Sir, sorry ham hi to see you dishappointed hin 
ha lady, Sir, w'at's hun'appily perwided halready, Sir ; hand the 
more the sorrier. Sir, to think hi 'ave no chance to fill 'er place 

Dr. P. {Depricatingly .) Let us abandon vain regrets, good 
woman, and their causes ! Yes ! And their causes. 

Mother C. Before next season, Sir, the heligibles bein' now so few. 

Major. {Advancing with Grace.) There stands Lefroy, as if 
for execution. Why, I am still to learn. 



92 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINC4S. 

Dr. P. {To Lefroy.) Indulge more pleasing prospects ! Here ! 
Sir ! {Indicating Mother C.) is fair hand still unclaimed. 

Mother C. {Cnurtesying.) Hi 'opes hi urts no feelin's, by re- 
iusin,' Sir. But hi can't 'ave no snow, Sir, hin my second 'arvest. 

Dr. P. Oh ! good woman, he won't blight your oats, as, with 
the peddler, he mildewed his own. 

Lefroy. {Aside.) Then, that's out, too ! 

Major. {To Grace.) He was my rival, may o'ertop me yet. Of 
this, too much. Reverse his sentence, or his pardon read. If not, 
at least some blessing shed, by gracious word, in notice of his fate. 

Harry. He's humble. More. With wounds unstaunched. 
Speak his forgiveness. 

Grace. Bertha ! we'll think some faults are lessened here, when 
arrows aimed from far, steal, unawares, upon a watchful mark ! 

Bertha. {Advancing with Minot.) Yes ! Grace, and while we 
speak our pardon, have forgot what 'tis that we forgive. 

Bradford. {Advancing.) How sweet, when o'er the erring, 
charity her njantle spreads, scattering her rosemaries to inter with 
folly, all remembrance of it. 

Harry. Lefroy, the day is won. Fair amnesty is your. Receive 
it gratefully ! 

Stanhope. Yes ! 'Twas all in that Sulphur Water ! All in the 
Water ! 

Lefroy. {Facing, Aside.) Gratefully? — I can't speak at all ! I'm 
dumb with gratitude. Yes ! Inarticulate with thanks. — In the first 
place, I'm not in any danger. I won't have to fight. I never shall 
take human life, if I can avoid it — with honor. Otherwise, at ten 
paces, I'll face creation. And the whole affair is forgotten! {Ad- 
vancing.) I own how justly in this fence, I'm mastered with my 
weapons. Sweet heroines, through life I'll bless with prayer, re- 
sentment checked by victory, to falter into goodness. 

Minot. And chastise not that Jew ! For all the money that you 
spent with him, stands credit in the bill by you this morning paid. 

Stanhope. Now all are friends ! And, ere we take the train— a 
pleasant journey on our several paths ! This spot we'll shun for- 
ever. So glad, so fair, so sweet, — was ne'er so mortal ! 'Tis all 
in that Sulphur Water ! All in the Water ! {Exeunt.) 

Finis. 



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